


Constellations

by Felixbug



Series: Breaking the Silence [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, discussion of consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-02 02:19:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4041988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felixbug/pseuds/Felixbug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Night had fallen, and yet Anders was not here. Hawke refused to count the seconds, so he counted stars instead – eyes flickering across the constellations as the night time sounds of Hightown dwindled, faded, and fell silent.</i>
</p><p>Anders and Hawke spend their first night together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Explicit discussion of consent issues regarding Justice, brief mention of solitary confinement and other torture, description of scars and a brief reference to self-harm, mild angst, and explicit sex. Mostly explicit sex, this is the most epic smut I've ever written!
> 
> Part of my Breaking the Silence canon, to fit between Three Years and the beginning of the series, but I wrote this to work completely on its own as well :) The first three chapters were written for #AndersPositive week on Tumblr.

Hawke tried not to look at the clock on the wall, staring fixedly out of the window so that his eye wouldn’t be drawn to it. He could hear it though – infernal rhythmic ticks and tocks counting out the seconds. The door was unlocked – there had been a conversation with Bodahn about making sure neither he nor Sandal interfered with it, and a slightly more uncomfortable discussion with his mother where he _tried_ to be vague and she clearly understood exactly what was going on – night had fallen, and yet Anders was not here. Hawke refused to count the seconds, so he counted stars instead – eyes flickering across the constellations as the night time sounds of Hightown dwindled, faded, and fell silent.

There was a soft scuff behind him – the familiar sound of wood dragged across carpet as his door swung open. Hawke stared at the stars, swallowing hard, searching for the courage to turn around. It would be Macaroni, he knew it – fed up with being banished to the library fireside and searching for a soft bed to curl up on. He needed to accept the disappointment now, then turn around and make the best of another night sharing the bed with the slobbering, affectionate beast.

Hawke turned, and his breath caught.

Anders stood in the doorway, hovering awkwardly with his lower lip pulled between his teeth. There was a guilty, haunted look to his face – as if he expected to be chased out into the street rather than welcomed. Hawke forced himself to take two cautious paces towards him, not race forward and pin him against the doorframe as he was tempted to. He’d been patient for three years – he wouldn’t scare him away now.

“You’re here,” he said. “I wasn’t sure you would come.”

“Justice does not approve of my obsession with you,” Anders said, finally stepping over the threshold. “He believes you’re a distraction. It is one of the few things on which he and I disagree.”

“So he’s an… unwilling participant in our threesome?” Hawke’s tone was light, but he felt a nasty heaviness in his gut. He hadn’t thought about Justice. He’d been _trying_ not to think about Justice.

“Please don’t call it that.” Anders wrinkled his nose, and for a heart-stopping moment Hawke thought he’d ruined it – his ill-timed jokes had got him into trouble often enough, but this was _Anders,_ this was too important to mess up, if he’d lost him – then Anders shook his head as if to clear it, and _thank the Maker_ , he kept talking. “When I was in the Circle, love was only a game. It gave the Templars too much power if there was something you couldn’t stand to lose. It would kill me to lose you.”

“You aren’t going to lose me.” Hawke’s chest tightened, stepping forward to catch Anders as he ducked his gaze away. He could take in every detail of his face – it was rare that he was allowed to get this close – close enough to see the tired heaviness around Anders’ eyes along with the hopeful, cautious smile that tugged at his lips as he leaned in toward him.

“No mage I know has ever dared to fall in love,” Anders said as he raised his hand to Hawke’s face, fingertips just brushing his cheek, still unsure it was allowed. Hawke leaned into the touch – and for the briefest moment he saw a thin, splintering line of blue dart across Anders’ palm. His touch was warm, soft, and his skin hummed faintly against Hawke’s face. His breath caught as he saw Anders’ gaze dart down to his lips. “This is the rule I will most cherish breaking.”

 _Finally._ Three years of fantasies couldn’t compare to this – Anders’ lips against his, his body pulled close, the warmth of his skin and the soft gasps of his breath. Hawke slid his hands around him to pull him closer, pushing that brief glimpse of blue out of his mind and enjoying the moment – the eager yielding of Anders’ lips as he deepened the kiss, the cautious swipe of tongue against his lips and the way Anders relaxed against him as Hawke groaned softly into his mouth. It was nothing like the desperate, impulsive kiss in the clinic – and _Maker_ that had been incredible – although there was urgency to this, there was tenderness too. In the clinic, Anders had still expected all this to be snatched away. Now, at last, they were _here_ and they were _together_ , and nothing would come between them.

Hawke reluctantly pulled back, but only for long enough to back towards the bed and pull Anders down after him. Anders’ thigh slid between his legs and Hawke’s noble intentions not to rush fled as their lips crashed together again. There were thick layers of fabric between them, and Hawke’s fingers clutched at feathers and suede as he dug them into Anders’ back, but it was still so good to have the weight of Anders’ body firm and heavy and _real_ against his chest. Anders’ hips settled against his, and Hawke couldn’t help but grind up against him, groaning into his hot, wet mouth.

Passion ignited between them, hands roaming over squirming bodies as Hawke’s hips bucked urgently. Even through the heavy coat, Hawke could tell that Anders was hard, and his own cock was responding to the delicious friction of Anders’ thigh. He growled against Anders’ lips, and Anders’ shaky gasp in response made his pulse race and his hands tighten against him. He realised he had no idea what the other man liked, what to expect, a thousand fantasies and he didn’t even really know what he looked like naked, much less how he liked to be touched. Right now though, all he could think about was the pressure against his cock and the eager shake in Anders’ breath.

Anders’ hand wandered from his waist to his hip, hovered there for a few moments and then – Hawke gasped against Anders’ lips – his fingers hooked in the waistband of Hawke’s trousers. A brief tug to loosen them, and a warm, narrow hand was slipping down, fingers brushing through coarse hair, less than an inch from Hawke’s trapped cock and…

_Unwilling participant._

Hawke kissed Anders harder, one hand sliding up to grip the back of his head. It wasn’t his business – it wasn’t his spirit – and Anders’ hand was so close, fingertips just brushing the base of his cock, just a few more seconds and he could be thrusting against that beautiful, freckled hand.

“Wait,” Hawke gasped, a frustrated groan following the word as Anders’ hand stilled and his lips withdrew.

Hawke thought of that flash of blue – what was it? An attempt to push him away? An attempt at communication? He couldn’t do this – raw panic rose in his chest at the thought, they were so _close_ but he couldn’t. Not like this.

“Everything alright?” Anders asked, and Hawke could see the same fear in his eyes. There was no way he wouldn’t take this as rejection – a noble sounding excuse to push the _abomination_ away – Hawke knew Anders couldn’t help but take this as confirmation that Justice made him unlovable, undesirable, and it would have been the easiest thing in the world to pull him down and let their bodies take over but…

_Unwilling participant._

“About that thing I said before…” Hawke took hold of Anders’ wrist and gently tugged his hand out of his trousers, trying not to feel the aching in his cock, trying desperately not to think about the answering hardness jutting into his hip. “About Justice being an, ah, unwilling participant.”

“I don’t really want to think about it like that…” Anders’ brow creased and he broke eye contact, ducking his head away.

“Okay… but no, really, is he?” Hawke forced a laugh – hating himself a little for it, but he didn’t know how else to have this conversation. “Because forcing myself on a spirit of Justice sounds like a spectacularly bad idea, even by my standards.”

Anders flinched – visibly flinched, his face contorting in pain and fury as he recoiled from Hawke. He rolled off him, not seeming to hear Hawke’s hasty apology as he covered his face with a frustrated, furious groan.

“Please don’t go,” Hawke said, cringing at the pleading tone in his voice.

“He’s taken _everything_ ,” said Anders. There was anger in his voice, but it was fading fast, already replaced by bitter defeat. “I don’t understand him – what he thinks, what he wants – I thought he’d accepted this but tonight…” He sat up, his legs hanging off the edge of the bed and his shoulders hunched. “I don’t know. That’s the truth – I don’t know.”

“I know he doesn’t like me,” Hawke said. He sat up beside Anders’ and reached out to offer his hand. Anders took it without hesitation, squeezing painfully hard as if anchoring himself to Hawke, clinging to the moment before he could snatch it away. “And – I don’t know much about spirits. I don’t know if he’d see it _that_ way or if disapproving is just a detached state for him – but he’s – when I talked to him in the Fade, he seemed like a person. You said he was your friend. If we’re not sure – I don’t think we can do this, Anders.”

“It’s my body.” There was no anger in his tone, just a sharp edge of defensiveness barely holding back misery. “We never talked about this. We should have done, but we didn’t, and it’s too late now. He’s _gone_.”

“He’s not. I met him.”

“Well I didn’t.” Anders’ free hand curled into a fist. “It’s been years and we don’t speak. We can’t. Sometimes things are good for a while, but it’s still – I feel what he feels, sometimes there are images. Usually when he’s trying to torture me for not doing things his way – but when he takes over there’s nothing. Just – blackness.” His grip was bruising Hawke’s fingers, and he shuddered. “We hurt each other,” he admitted. “Both of us, all the time – it’s not his fault and much as I hate myself for it, I don’t think it’s really mine either. We are something that should never have existed. You deserve more than this.”

“You haven’t managed to scare me off yet.” Hawke extracted his fingers from Anders’ grip and wrapped his arm around his shoulders, breathing a sigh of relief when Anders’ stiff body softened and leaned into him. “Look I’ve – thought about this night a lot.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Actually – a lot implies it’s anything less than _continuous,_ and I’m not sure I’ve stopped in three years.” Anders laughed weakly, and snaked his arm around Hawke’s waist.

“But I can wait,” Hawke continued. “If I need to help you talk to Justice somehow, or do whatever it takes to make him trust me enough to stop disapproving – if he just needs time to get his spirity head around all this weird mortal shit, or if…” Hawke rubbed his hand over Anders’ shoulder comfortingly. “If he’s never ready, that’s alright too. If he’ll let you spend time with me like this – and, the kissing is good, _really_ good – if he doesn’t mind that too much…”

“I have to believe it’s not going to come to that.” Anders’ voice shook a little, and Hawke kissed the top of his head with a fervent thought of _me too_ that he managed not to voice. That wouldn’t help any of them. Him, Anders, and the awkward presence between them – silent and unreachable but disapproving. _Unwilling_. Hawke was sickened at the thought of what he could have done, if that little splinter of light hadn’t stuck in his mind and forced him to think.

“Can you tell what he disapproves of?” Hawke forced a chuckle, his breath ruffling Anders’ hair. “My mother always says I’ll never get a wife if I don’t stop letting Macaroni sleep in the bed, if it’s the mabari smell I could try to do something about it.”

“I’m not convinced Justice knows the difference between dogs and humans,” Anders said. There was a smile in his voice – a shaky one, but Hawke relaxed a little. They would get past this. He wasn’t running straight out of the door. “I – honestly don’t know. It used to be all about how you were a distraction, how you’d pull us away from the cause, but he was impressed by what he saw of you in the Fade – and when we killed Alrik – when you – you calmed him down. He was panicking, I don’t understand why, I’ll never understand why he tried to kill an innocent girl, a _mage_ … but he listened to you. He _trusted_ you – your judgement over his.”

“Well that’s a start. I’ve always said it – there’s nothing more romantic than a date to kill Templars and _not_ kill scared teenage girls.”

“ _Maker_ , Hawke.”

“Works every time. A few fresh corpses, a serious argument about the morality of smiting the victim, trust me, it’s a fantastic way to get the spirit of your dreams hot and bothered.”

“Maybe it’s your sense of humour he disapproves of.” Anders sounded vaguely scandalized, but he was laughing too, and the tension had drained out of him. “This isn’t about you seducing Justice. Please, don’t, I can’t begin to imagine how that’d work and I’m not sure I want to.”

That sparked an idle thought that Hawke pushed aside quickly – when he and Justice had been left alone in the Fade, those burning eyes on him, seeming to penetrate his essence and assess what they found – there had been something magnetic about his presence. Just his resemblance to Anders, no doubt – and definitely not something to bring up _now._

“So he liked me last week – but he’s gone off me now?”

“Maybe?” Anders sighed. “I don’t know – honestly, he’s been intrusive tonight, I was scared enough about this – about hurting you, about bringing more pain and chaos into your life – I almost didn’t come and then to have Justice feeling like this as well… it’s just exhausting.” He straightened up to look at Hawke hopelessly. “I just want something for myself, for once – I’ve been so selfish, I didn’t even think about him, trapped in my mind, having to live with everything I do as if it was happening to him.” He pulled away from Hawke and put his head in his hands. “I’m no better than the bloody Templars, treating him as if he’s not a person – as if I have the right to just decide what happens to him. Maker… I don’t deserve him, or you.”

“I don’t know him as well as you,” Hawke said gently. “But I think he’d understand – you’re human, you’re not supposed to be perfect.”

“I wish I could just ask him,” Anders sighed. “I don’t even know if he’s saying _no,_ he’s just not saying _yes_ either and it’d be so much easier if I could just _talk_ to him.”

Hawke pondered for a moment, resting his hand gently at the top of Anders’ spine.

“But you know that he disapproves?”

“It’s a feeling.” Anders shrugged. “No specifics, just a general unease – I don’t know why, or even really how much – I don’t know if he’s trying to keep me away from you or trying to keep you away from him. If it’s the first one it’s none of his business but – Maker, you’re right, if it’s the second then we can’t, can we?” Hawke rubbed his back soothingly.

“Do you know what approval feels like?” he asked. Anders laughed bitterly but nodded.

“I don’t get it from him often, but yes – I do.”

“Then we could just ask him,” Hawke said. “I mean – this might be too simple, don’t laugh if it is – I don’t know much about possession but – he can hear me, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then I could try asking him? I don’t mean – he doesn’t have to approve, or like me, but if he’s willing for me to touch you – him – both of you.”

Anders looked at him – face filled with conflicting emotion, fear and anticipation and even after all this, hope. His breath caught, and he nodded.

“Alright. He’s – he’s listening. Ask him.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief, pretty vague reference to torture in this one. Still not quite into smut, but we're getting there ;)

Anders couldn’t separate his thoughts easily from Justice’s, and his emotions were no less tangled, but he knew that the panic he felt curling in his chest was all his. Could it be that simple? He couldn’t think of any reason why not – but if it was… after everything Justice had taken from him, he could take this away so easily – negative thoughts becoming a bitter denial in Anders’ mouth, and he would lose Hawke. Oh, Hawke knew all the right things to say – taking things slow, accepting a life together without sex if that’s what it took – but Hawke was a man. A beautiful, wealthy, charming man who could have anyone he wanted. It was a miracle he’d shown any interest in Anders at all. Surely he wouldn’t wait forever.

But there was something else – another layer to his thoughts that he identified as not his own. There was surprise, respect – as much as Anders would have expected no less from Hawke, Justice had not anticipated such thoughtfulness or care. He was glowing warmly amidst Anders’ fears, still filled with flutterings of discomfort but pushing forward curiously, inspecting Hawke’s face through Anders’ eyes. _He is a good man,_ Anders thought, and was not sure which of them had thought it first but there was no disagreement. For the first time since Hawke had taken hold of his wrist, Anders felt a faint stirring of hope. Hawke was patient, kind, ready to work through Anders’ complications and boundaries, ready to fight to be with him but not at the cost of treating another being without respect – Anders chest tightened as he realised the truth. Hawke _loved_ him. Perhaps, just maybe, whatever the answer to his question, Anders might have a place here.

“Alright,” he said finally, swallowing back his fear. “He’s – he’s listening. Ask him.”

 Hawke gently guided Anders to turn towards him, staring intently into his eyes as if looking for the second presence there. He ran his palm over Anders’ cheek, pushing loose strands of hair back from his face.

“Hello Justice,” he said, flushing slightly and breaking eye contact. “This feels ridiculous – you’re sure he’s listening?”

“Intently,” Anders promised.

“I – I don’t mean Anders any harm,” he said. “I, Maker, this’d be easier if I knew what you didn’t like about me – I promise I’m not going to abandon him, or try to get rid of you, and I _hate_ Templars. And I’m not going to do any – uh – weird shit. To your body. Anders’ body. I’m going to ask you a question and – if you say no, it’s going to be okay, even if Anders is upset right now I’m going to _make_ things okay with both of us – but I hope you can trust me enough to say yes.” He bit his lip, and Anders could hear the nervousness in his voice – the version of Hawke he rarely showed, hidden behind jokes and smiles, raw and vulnerable and desperately hopeful. “Justice – can I touch you?”

Anders wondered for a split-second if Justice would understand the question – a mortal would have known by context, but he remembered Justice’s aggravating literal-mindedness from their talks and thought he might misunderstand. But the images in Anders’ mind filled in the blanks, his own unspoken plea added to Hawke’s question – _let me have this._ And Anders felt it all at once – tension draining from his limbs, the tight grip of fear around his heart dissolving, the presence in his mind stepping back. It was like a full-body exhale, a boundary melting away, and there was a word on his tongue he hadn’t called forth.

“Yes.” He let it fall loose, gasping and meeting Hawke’s equally surprised gaze. “Yes – he says yes – I can’t believe – Maker, he says _yes_.” He blinked, fighting the hot prickle of relieved tears, and reached out to rest his palms against Hawke’s chest, reassuring himself that he was real.

Hawke pulled him close and Anders tucked his face against his neck, breathing in the warm – and, yes, distinctly mabari-like – scent of him. He laughed, an uncontrolled burst of relief as he slid his hands up into Hawke’s hair. He felt a gentle pulse of happiness in his thoughts – there was still a slight discomfort there too, that Anders’ thought might be nervousness – but he could feel Justice’s pleasure at this, being able to give Anders something rather than taking away.

Anders laughter ceased, and at the same moment he felt Hawke’s hand on his back still and his breath catch. There was nothing left to hold them back. Anders pulled back as Hawke’s hand slid roughly into his hair, dislodging his hair tie and dragging him forward to claim his lips again.

There was no restraint this time – Hawke groaned against his mouth wantonly, tongue thrusting between his lips as Anders swung one leg across Hawke’s lap and dragged himself close. He arched, breathing hard, feeling the firm bulge pressing up against the cleft of his ass. He rocked his hips, and Hawke’s groan deepened and he tugged Anders’ lower lip gently with his teeth.

“I’m going to keep checking in,” Hawke murmured against his lips. His hands skimmed down over Anders’ waist and lower to grip his ass, squeezing firmly as Anders ground against him. “No surprises, I don’t care if it’s a bit awkward – the last thing we need is Justice getting in a panic after he’s been so accommodating.”

“Honestly – I’d like that myself,” Anders admitted. “It’s been a while.”

“And I’m intimidating?” Hawke raised his eyebrow and grinned.

“Not you so much as – this. Letting anyone close.” He kissed him again, slow, languid strokes of lips and tongue, mingled breath and the soft rumble of Hawke’s groans against his lips. He slid his hand down Hawke’s chest, feeling the silky garment loosening. His fingers slipped inside it, combing through thick chest hair.

“Can I undress you?” Hawke said breathlessly, pulling back and reluctantly sliding his hands from Anders’ ass up to his waist to toy with the buckles of his coat. His face was flushed and his chest heaved with every breath – and Anders was very, very aware of his eagerness. His cock was rigid beneath him, twitching against his ass.

“Yes.” Anders felt for disagreement, and found none. “Yes, please.”

“Mm, I like the sound of that,” Hawke growled, spinning Anders around and pushing him down onto his back in the centre of the bed and kneeling between his thighs. “ _Please.”_

He leaned down to kiss him again, but dodged Anders’ lips at the last moment with a chuckle, brushing instead along his jawline and then sucking firmly at the soft skin just below his ear. Anders gasped sharply, arching against him.

“That good?” Hawke’s breath was hot against his ear, and his tongue flickered out toy with his earlobe, making Anders squirm.

“Yes,” he gasped.

Hawke pulled back, eyes raking over Anders’ body. He unclasped the chain across his chest, then made short work of the buckles holding his coat in place. Anders lifted up just long enough to shrug out of the sleeves, then Hawke was gently pushing him back down again, shuffling back to unclasp his boots and tug them off his feet along with his socks. Anders scrunched his toes in the silky sheets as Hawke ran his hands up his legs, tracing the outlines of his muscled calves through his clothing, then gripping his thighs hard and pushing them apart. He was splayed out for Hawke to explore, his robe bunched up around his hips, trousers doing little to hide his hardness. Hawke stopped short of touching his cock, ignoring the eager little jerk of Anders’ hips.

“What did you imagine, about tonight?” Hawke leaned down and tugged one of Anders’ legs up, bending the knee until it was high enough for Hawke to kiss his clothed thigh.

“The door being locked,” Anders laughed breathlessly.

“And if it wasn’t?” Hawke grinned, and tugged at the fabric with his teeth before placing another kiss slightly higher. “What do you like?”

“I – honestly, with you, anything.” Hawke’s hands slid up to his hips, and Anders gasped as his thumbs slid up under his robe to rub over his bare skin.

“I could use my hands,” Hawke suggested, kneading his flesh until Anders arched and panted. “Or my mouth.”

“Oh – fuck, _yes,_ ” Anders said, breathing sharply as he felt Hawke’s lips brush over his cock, separated by fabric but _so_ close, fantasy made flesh. “To all of that, yes.”

“Do you like to be fucked?” Hawke asked. “Maker, no way of putting that delicately, is there? Or if you prefer things the other way round – or you’re not into that – I’m…” he laughed, resting his head against Anders’ belly. “I swear to the fucking Maker I used to be better at this.”

“Yes,” Anders managed – the question had shot straight to his cock, every touch, every breath, Hawke was undoing him and he’d barely started. Anders looked down and caught Hawke’s eye as he glanced up, his full lips were slightly parted, his dark hair falling into his eyes, and he looked at Anders as if he was the whole world. “I want you,” Anders said, growing in confidence under Hawke’s eager stare. “I want you to fuck me.”

“I think I like that even better than please,” Hawke growled, lunging up his body to kiss him again. They were both unrestrained and urgent, teeth clashing briefly before they settled against each other. Anders’ body remembered the moves even if he was out of practice, he drew sharp gasps and eager moans from Hawke’s lips with ever talented swipe of his tongue and nibble of teeth. Hawke was less precise, but more intense – he made Anders’ feel consumed, overwhelmed, swept up in the heat of Hawke’s breath and the firm grip of his hands. Hawke’s hips ground against his, the thick shape of his cock pressing down against Anders’ own, and Anders almost whimpered, the sound choked back at the last moment out of habit – an impulse he couldn’t quite shake.

Hawke continued up his body, hands skimming over his chest. Only his thin grey robe separated Hawke’s fingers from his skin, and Anders shuddered eagerly at the touch. It had been _years_ since he’d been touched like this – since merging with Justice he’d barely been touched at all, and even before that… he felt a sudden rise of panic in his chest. It was definitely his, he felt Justice trying to hold it back, but it overwhelmed them both. He’d flirted during his brief time with the Wardens, and with the people he’d met during his time on the run during the blight. And back at the Circle, he’d been busy, he’d been tired, he’d been _recovering_ and no one had expected much from the wild-eyed, skinny mage they’d hauled out of the dungeons, just a shadow of his former self after so long in the dark.

“Anders?”

Hawke’s lips were gone from his, and his hands stilled against his chest. Anders looked up into Hawke’s concerned face, feeling his hands start to pull away and _no,_ he wouldn’t lose him to this. Hawke had made peace with the spirit inside him, he wouldn’t let his demons push him away.

“I’m not what I was,” Anders said. “And I don’t just mean Justice. I – there are scars.” He swallowed, trying not to think about the way his body looked. It was rare he even looked at it himself, wearing the same clothes for days on end and washing in the dark. “Things I wasn’t allow- wasn’t able to heal.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Hawke reached out to smooth his hair – a gesture Anders was beginning to realise was as much to reassure Hawke as it was for him. They both needed to be reminded they had this – neither was going to back away now.

“Not tonight – if that’s, if you don’t mind…” Anders trailed off, and Hawke slid back to kneel between his thighs, taking hold of the edge of his robe.

“Ready?”

Anders nodded and sat up, legs surrounding Hawke, eye to eye with him, swallowing fear and self-loathing, for the first time in years believing he could be accepted, wanted, that he could be vulnerable in front of this man without fearing the consequences. Anders raised his arms, and Hawke tugged his robe off over his head.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Detailed descriptions of scars, mentions of torture, and this chapter definitely qualifies for that E rating though it's still _barely_ smut.

There had been no reason to imagine Anders’ skin would be unmarred, Hawke’s own body told a story in healed cuts and burns, reminders of pain seared into flesh from accidents, from fights, from a boyhood spent climbing trees and not heeding warnings. Yet in his fantasies – honestly, Hawke hadn’t even thought, focused to the exclusion of all else on trying to imagine the shape Anders concealed beneath loose and bulky clothing, on looking at the colour of his hair and the stubble of his jaw, the trail of freckles on his neck, little clues to what he might find.

Anders’ face was covered for a moment as the robe slid over his head, giving Hawke much-needed time to wipe the thin-lipped fury from his face as the damage to his body was revealed. Anders was as beautiful as he’d imagined – worryingly thin with sharply jutting hips and ribs, but what muscle he had was well-defined. There was a natural elegance to his shape, willowy and graceful as he twisted his shoulders free – and Hawke had been right, there were freckles.

There were also scars.

The worst was in the centre of his chest, a wound that looked as if it should have killed him – deep and twisted enough that it _must_ have been deep, shattering bone and tearing deep into his chest. Anders’ skills as a healer could explain his survival, possibly, but not the twisted burn scar descending from it. But, whatever the cause, that was a scar clearly earned in battle – Hawke had plenty of those himself. What caught his breath and fogged his mind with rage were the scars that wrapped around Anders’ shoulders, the sides of his chest, his waist, and as he hunched forward to wriggle free of his robe Hawke got an unrestricted view of his back, and his carefully arranged mask slipped – just for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” Anders said. “I should have said something earlier, I…”

Hawke tore his gaze from the scar-striped skin -  they’d whipped him, whipped him bloody and stopped him healing, and Hawke wouldn’t ask questions now but there would come a time where he would want _names_.

“Don’t worry,” Hawke said. He cupped Anders’ jaw, tilting his head back up to look at him again. Hawke slid his hand down over Anders’ neck, fingers rubbing over another ridge of scarring where neck met shoulder but he wouldn’t look – wouldn’t acknowledge. Not tonight. “I like freckles.”

Anders eyes widened and he was laughing – _Maker_ , it was that easy – a relieved burst that caught them both by surprise. Hawke kissed him, running his hand down over Anders’ shoulder, concentrating on the firm muscle and soft skin, letting his fingers glide smoothly over the tapered tips of scars as if they weren’t there. He pushed him back gently and Anders fell back against his scattered clothing, arms splayed out, and Hawke grabbed his waist firm enough to make him squeak in surprise against his lips.

“Are there any… _freckles,_ you’d rather I didn’t touch?” Hawke asked. He straddled Anders’ hips, relieved to feel he was still definitely hard. Anders shook his head, red-gold strands fanning out and catching the light. Hawke leaned down, unable to resist pressing their lips together once more, and this time as his tongue swept across Anders’ lower lip he was sure he felt a quite hum of pleasure vibrating between them.

Hawke kissed his way down Anders’ neck, following the trail of freckles that descended from behind his ear to his shoulder. They were interrupted by the faint band of scar tissue Hawke had felt before, a curved ridge on each side at the base of his neck. Hawke held back his frown, following the freckles with his lips and kissing the scar where he thought more might have once been. He didn’t pause, continuing down to nip at Anders’ collarbone, growling against his skin until he squirmed and laughed as he chased freckle after freckle, pale brown dots scattered across his skin like stars.

Hawke moved lower, and the freckles thinned out here – smooth expanses of unmarked skin, scattered with dark blond hair and beginning to flush faintly under Hawke’s lips. He reached a nipple and Anders gasped, a hand skimming up Hawke’s arm to clench in his hair, and Hawke tugged on it gently between his lips as it hardened and Anders writhed.

“You’re perfect.” He looked up to meet Anders’ gaze, and kneaded his narrow waist gently with his thumbs.

“Even the…” Anders paused – there were things he couldn’t say yet, not quite. “The _freckles_?”

“Everyone has freckles.” Hawke kissed Anders’ sternum, just above the thick, twisted scar. “Some more than others.” He moved to the other nipple, enjoying the way the tension melted from Anders’ face to be replaced with unconcealed eagerness, lips parting with a soft gasp as Hawke let his tongue dart out over the peak. “You’re beautiful.”

And he was – Hawke groaned at the taste of Anders’ skin, hands roaming eagerly over his sides and dropping again to grip his hips as he toyed with the nipple between his lips. Just the faintest skim of his teeth against it left Anders panting, pushing up against him and clawing at his shoulders – he was quiet, but he was incredibly responsive, every touch making him strain for more. As Hawke slid lower he felt the distinctive pressure of Anders’ erection against his stomach, and his narrow hips writhed as he ground against Hawke’s body, shamelessly chasing friction. Hawke followed the scattered freckles across his belly, hunting out every light brown speck and kissing it, nipping at the skin, feeling the shuddering tension in the taut muscle beneath.

“Can I turn you over?” His voice was soft and whispery, and his breath against Anders’ skin made him gasp.

“I…” Anders hesitated, and the eager pressure of his fingers against Hawke’s shoulders dropped.

“It’s okay if you’d rather not,” Hawke said. He kissed Anders’ hip and grazed his teeth across the ridge of bone. “But I’m hunting freckles,” he found another, hidden in the shadowed hollow of Anders’ hip, and kissed it with a faint groan. “I don’t want any to escape.”

Anders nodded, and Hawke pulled back to let him turn. He almost moaned at the sight – the way Anders’ moved made him want to stop taking his time, to get him out of the remains of his clothing and see how he twisted and bucked with Hawke’s lips around his cock. Anders’ hips twisted, highlighting the outline of his abs, his body arched and he turned, settling onto his front with his face twisted to the side amidst a cloud of hair.

Hawke was prepared this time, and he didn’t hesitate for a moment before dropping to capture the scattering of freckles at the base of Anders’ spine, feather-light kisses that made Anders squirm. There were, Hawke realised, likely to be few others – the mess of scarring across Anders’ back had stolen the natural beauty of his skin from him, replacing constellations with ridges and troughs, complexity and chaos with straight lines imposed by a Templar’s hand. He sought out what remained – unflinching as his lips skimmed over twisted flesh to seek them out. One tiny speck on an unmarked strip of skin caught his attention, a warm, smooth place between silver stripes.

He moved up further, to where the scars were further spaced, to the rippling muscles of Anders’ shoulders. The sharp knobs of his spine were surrounded by the contoured evidence of his skill with his staff – the distinctive body of a mage, another page in the story his skin told. Hawke found a cluster of freckles, shifting slightly as Anders’ breath made the sharp outlines of his shoulder blades rise and fall.

“The thing about freckles,” Hawke murmured against his skin. “Is no one has the same ones.” He sat up, shifting until he was sitting on Anders’ ass and he could run his hands uninterrupted over the full expanse of his back. “These ones on your shoulder – they look a little like a dragon, did anyone ever tell you?”

“Everything looks like a dragon to you.”

“Mm, no, only things I like.” Hawke leaned down to kiss a large freckle at the nape of Anders’ neck, exhaling into his hair and making him shiver pleasantly. “Let me show you – here’s the head,” he traced a line between two freckles, then connected it to a third, a fourth – it was a very square-snouted dragon, but Hawke was a determined man. “Then a foreleg, stretching out – here, like this – the curve of its belly, this is a fat dragon, very well fed, it obviously knows a wealthy, hilarious dragon who’s making sure it remembers to eat enough…”

“ _Hawke.”_

“And a big claw here, brilliant for disembowelling any knights that try to bother it – though I think the other dragon might help with that, to be honest, he doesn’t like knights very much either – and here – all the way over here – is the tip of its tail.” Hawke let his finger rest on one lone freckle on Anders’ shoulder, then leaned down to kiss it. “Almost missed that one. Important to be thorough.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Hawke brushed Anders’ hair out of his face and tucked it behind his ear. There was a freckle on his cheekbone, and Hawke pressed his lips against it softly.

“It’s Garrett, by the way,” he murmured. “I think we should really be on first name terms before I see you naked.”

“Garrett.” Anders smiled, and Hawke pulled back to let him twist onto his back again. Hawke decided he liked the sound of his name on Anders’ lips better than anything else, especially when he whispered it again, urgently, as Hawke flattened his body against him and sucked hard at his neck.

Anders’ hands tugged at his clothing insistently, ties and buttons loosening under his quick fingers as they moved together. Their bodies found a rhythm, grasping hands and bitten lips, sharp gasps from Anders and ever more urgent moans from Hawke as he thrust against him. Hawke shrugged out of his shirt and Anders hands roamed over his back, his chest, grasping tightly as if he wasn’t certain Hawke was real and had to check every inch of him to be sure.

His hands moved to Hawke’s hair, dragging their lips even closer, urgent, biting kisses that left Hawke breathless and Anders shaking. Hawke slid his hand between them to cup Anders’ length through his trousers and Anders’ stifled moan caught in his throat. Hawke groaned loud enough for both of them, shaping his fingers around the hard bulge and beginning to stroke.

“Is this…” he groaned as Anders’ tugged gently on his hair again and leaned up to nip at Hawke’s neck, eager pants hot against his skin. “Is Justice alright?”

“He’s quiet,” Anders said. He kissed his way down to Hawke’s shoulder. “He seems alright – he hasn’t – there’s no more disapproval.” He shuddered and his hips jerked hard, thrusting up against Hawke’s hand.

“I’m going to unlace your trousers,” Hawke said. “If you’re ready – both of you – I’d like to touch you.”

“Oh – yes, _yes_.”

“You…” Hawke flushed a little – rubbing Anders’ cock, feeling him hot and hard and desperate beneath him, and he was struggling to ask a _question_. “You’ve done this yourself, at least? Since you and Justice merged?”

Anders nodded, and panted harshly against his ear as Hawke began to loosen the laces. One hand had slid to Hawke’s shoulder, the other was still tightly clasped in his hair. He was curled against him, skin to skin at every available point, grinding urgently against Hawke’s fingers. Hawke braced his free forearm against the bed and with a final tug, Anders’ cock was free.

“So, Justice, no surprises for you here,” Hawke murmured against Anders’ ear. It still felt strange, talking to a being who couldn’t truly respond, but he was getting used to it. He slipped his hand into Anders’ underclothes and gently pulled his cock free, groaning eagerly as he wrapped his fingers around the shaft. Anders’ breath caught and his fingers clawed at Hawke’s shoulder again, hips bucking urgently.

“Lie back,” Hawke said, and Anders did, collapsing against the bed with a bitten-back cry as Hawke’s hand tightened around him. Hawke looked down between their bodies, letting out a wordless murmur of appreciation at the sight of Anders’ length in his hand. It was fully hard, throbbing against his palm with every pounding beat of Anders’ heart. Fluid had smeared over the flushed tip, and as Hawke gave a slow, experimental stroke he couldn’t resist running his thumb over the wet slit. Anders’ reaction was immediate, body jerking as if he’d been struck by lightning. His back arched and his head tilted back, exposing the pale column of his throat.

“Look at me,” Hawke said softly. His breath was ragged, voice low with desire, and Anders responded instantly, staring up into his eyes with their faces only inches apart as Hawke finally adjusted his grip and began to move.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to warn for in this one: smut, a little mild Justice angst and a very, very vague blink-and-you'll-miss-it solitary confinement reference.

“Look at me.”

The deep growl of Hawke’s voice seemed to vibrate through Anders’ skin, hum along his bones and coil around his heart. Hot, thick and commanding – power without threat – it was a voice he’d dreamed of, called to mind to whisper promises of what he denied himself, what he denied them both. Now it was real, and could not be ignored. He looked up, meeting Hawke’s intense stare and glancing over his face. He could feel Hawke’s ragged breath against his skin, see the dampness on his lips – slightly bruised from countless eager kisses. The pressure around his cock was unbearably good, tension already building from just a touch – just the thought. The thought of _Hawke’s_ hand wrapped around his length, Hawke’s thighs pressing against his, and then Hawke _moved_ and he couldn’t think at all.

Anders gasped, barely holding back a cry of raw pleasure as Hawke’s touch seemed to ignite his skin. The tension coiling low in his belly became a twisted ball of liquid heat, his toes curled and his grip on Hawke’s shoulder and hair tightened abruptly, nails digging into tanned skin. He’d seen Hawke shirtless before, stripped off without a care in the summer heat, but he’d never expected to be so close – running his hands over the familiar body, feeling the thrum of his pulse under his fingers and staring up into those dark, penetrating eyes.

“Is that good?” Hawke asked – his voice reverent and heated as his slow strokes left Anders’ breath shaking.

“Yes,” Anders nodded, and bit his lip, and Hawke shuffled the arm he rested on up to cup Anders’ face as he stroked him faster.

“And this?”

“Nngh…” Anders’ skin felt more flushed with every stroke, with every heartbeat. He twisted his head to kiss the pads of Hawke’s hand, focusing on the rough callouses against his lips and trying to resist the ever building pleasure that raced raw and blinding through his nerves.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Hawke slipped his thumb between Anders’ lips, groaning as he scraped the knuckle with his teeth. “Don’t hold back, I’ve – Maker, Anders, I’ve wanted this _so long._ ”

Gentle pressure from Hawke’s hand turned him back to face him, eye to eye with Hawke’s thumb toying with his lower lip. Hawke growled and swept in to replace it with his mouth, sucking firmly and then pressing his lips against Anders’ and plunging his tongue into his mouth again. Anders let himself whine faintly, the sound muffled by Hawke’s rough kiss and answered with a long, loud groan from him. Anders could feel Hawke’s hardness grinding against his thigh, was swept up in the roaring rush of sensation in his cock, consumed by the desperate hunger of Hawke’s kiss. He couldn’t hold back if he tried, his entire body felt white hot, stretched tight, ready to burn or snap or just fall apart under Hawke’s touch.

His shaken breaths became more urgent – sharp gasps against Hawke’s mouth, sounds he barely held back catching in his throat, hips jerking as he thrust into Hawke’s grip chasing more, faster, _now_. Hawke pulled back gasping, and slid his fingers into Anders’ hair to scuff blunt nails across his scalp as he hovered above him, eye to eye, his own harsh breaths edging into urgent grunts as he thrust against Anders’ thigh and quickened the skilled slide of his fist around Anders’ cock.

“Come for me, beautiful,” Hawke groaned. “Fuck, Maker, Anders – _please_.”

It was Hawke’s voice that undid him – as it always was in fantasies – every word could make him shiver but it was that hoarse, desperate plea that sent a bolt of pleasure down his spine and he shattered. His mouth stretched in a silent scream, eyes fluttering shut, back arching and hips jerking wildly as he thrust, chasing every pulse of pleasure his body could take. He felt the warm splash against his skin as he came over Hawke’s hand, thick spurts across his belly and then he slumped back against the bed, boneless and spent.

“That was…” Hawke’s words failed him and he curled his hand behind Anders’ head and kissed him instead, slow, intense, capturing every shaky gasp as Anders came down from his peak. Finally he pulled back, stroking Anders’ hair back from his face with a fond half-smile.

“Let me…” Anders slid his hand between their bodies, and Hawke moved up to let him palm his erection through his trousers. Hawke bit his lip and rested his forehead against Anders’ chest, muscular back hunched and glistening with a faint sheen of sweat.

“Oh – Andraste’s tits, that’s – _yes_.” Hawke nipped at Anders’ collarbone, hot breath coming quick and rough as Anders pushed his trousers down around his hips and closed his hand around Hawke’s length. His deep groan broke into a shuddering keen as his hips bucked and he pressed hot, urgent, open-mouthed kisses to Anders’ neck and shoulder. He gave a last slow stroke to Anders’ cock, then slid his hand down to grip his hip hard as Anders adjusted his grip and began to stroke faster.

“You’re still hard,” Hawke murmured.

“I am.” Anders grinned into a face full of Hawke’s hair as Hawke moaned against his neck. “I can usually keep going for one more, sometimes even two.”

Hawke raised himself on his elbow, a wolfish grin appearing on his face even as his flush deepened and he moaned sharply, thrusting against Anders’ hand.

“Not – not yet,” he gasped, and his hand shifted from Anders’ hip to his wrist, stilling his movements. “Not until you’re finished. Let me spoil you.”

“I can wait my turn.” Anders leaned up to kiss Hawke’s jaw through the thick scratch of his beard, straining up to tug gently at his earlobe. “It’s not like I plan on only doing this once.”

“I’ll take a while to be ready to go again,” Hawke laughed, and his laugh became a sharp gasp as Anders swiped his tongue over the rim of his ear. “We aren’t all as lucky as you.”

“You’ve never been with a mage before, have you?” Anders was finding his confidence – he was _good_ at this, and seeing Hawke rapidly coming undone at his touch was reminding him of that. “Tonight, you’re going to be very, very lucky. As many times as you want.”

“Oh,” Hawke gasped, his grip tightening briefly in Anders’ hair, and his hand sliding off Anders’ wrist to settle again on his hip. “Fuck, Anders, I don’t think either of us are getting out of this bed again.”

Anders resumed his strokes, letting a faint, barely perceptible rush of magic gently warm his fingers – there’d be time to show Hawke all the advantages of being with a mage, but for now he just gave himself an edge. A little extra heat to his touch and Hawke was left trembling, dropping his face against Anders’ chest again and his sharp, needy groans slipping into broken cries. Anders’ urgent need had receded, but seeing Hawke begin to fall apart as he was dragged towards his peak made his own cock twitch against his belly, aching to be touched, desperate for Hawke’s hot, pleading lips to be sliding down his shaft muffling moans against hard flesh. Hawke’s thighs tensed and Anders felt his cock pulse in his grip, and Hawke’s shuddering moan of his name was muffled against his skin as he came hard, gasping and whimpering and thrusting unevenly into Anders’ fist.

***

There was calm between the mortals now. Justice understood little of patience, but he understood the impossibly slow drag of time in this world, and the pain of something held out of reach by the everlasting crawl of moments. From the Fade it had seemed like nothing – memories of history summoned with a thought, centuries that flowed like water, mortal lives as brief as breaths. Moments were scattered like stars, traced so easily with a fingertip against the shifting surface of the veil. Justice was among them now, drifting through the endless chill of space and bound to time, bound to flesh, helpless against it.

It had been, Justice realised, no easier for Anders. A constellation of flashes of hope, stolen moments as Hawke’s fingers brushed his skin, when he smiled and met Anders’ gaze, when he came to him bloodied and breathing hard, a chuckle and a promise that it was _just a scratch_ which made Justice bristle at the clear deception and Anders only rush forward faster to press his healing hand to the ragged wound. He had fought his way from star to star, swallowing the light Hawke gave him before being plunged into the dark again. Always the dark – it was where Justice spent his days and Anders spent his nights, a shadow of memory in his mind that grew and diminished with the breath of his moods but never truly left them.

There was no darkness here. Hawke rolled off Anders’ body – leaving him streaked with sweat and the cooling, combined fluids of both men smeared across his belly. Justice twisted with displeasure in his mind, and for once Anders seemed to understand and, with a word to Hawke, obtained a towel and wiped his skin clean. There was still an itchy dampness to it that made Justice prickle, but he would not interfere, and the sensations were muted thickly through Anders’ mind. This was bearable – Anders’ intense comfort and satisfaction making up for the strange, undignified behaviour of the mortals.

“Just – one minute,” Hawke gasped, flopping onto his side and trailing his fingers lightly over Anders’ hip. “Let me catch my breath, and then I want to test that two or three times thing you mentioned.”

“Always magic to fall back on when that fails.” Anders laughed and rolled to face him, sliding his hand over Hawke’s waist and up onto his chest. Justice pushed forward slightly to feel the interesting textures – Hawke was softer than Anders, and hairier, and he was curious. Anders encouraged him back – no anger or violent mental struggle, just a gentle reminder that this was for the two of them. Justice settled back – he had no desire to intrude, and the happy, warm spiral of Anders’ mind was a more comfortable place to be. “I don’t have much to offer, but being a Warden and a mage does give me some advantages.”

“You have plenty to offer,” Hawke said. His hand tightened on Anders’ waist, tips digging into the deadened nerves of his scars. Justice agreed with Hawke, a fierce hum in Anders’ mind as Hawke tugged him closer and pressed his lips against the pulse point in Anders’ neck. “You’re not just here to perform sexy magic tricks.” He chuckled, and Anders squirmed happily as his breath tickled his skin. “Though they’re very welcome.”

Something passed between them – communication without words, as if they could feel each other’s thoughts, Anders’ unspoken longing for Hawke’s hands on him again slipped through the delicate shifts in his facial features into Hawke’s mind. Hawke rolled him onto his back, hands grasping, lips moving over skin, rasps of teeth and flicks of tongue. Anders arched breathlessly as he slipped lower, revisiting the freckles scattered across his skin as his mouth drifted down, and down, and down.

“Can I suck your cock?” Hawke asked, and Justice felt the white-hot urgent rush of arousal that flooded Anders’ mind. There were memories of the act nestled in Anders’ memories, and they floated to the surface to mix with fantasies and blur together into image and sensation, dulled by time and distance but clear enough – Justice saw no harm in this strange mortal habit, and gave what Anders thought of as the mental equivalent of a shrug.

“No objections here,” said Anders, and Hawke didn’t hesitate a moment before he was on him, engulfing him, leaving Anders gasping and writhing under his lips and tongue.

Justice retreated deeper, content that Anders was safe, and his presence was not needed. Hawke was not what he had expected – for the first time Justice thought he might be more than an ally. Perhaps, in time, a friend. It had been a long time since a mortal had sought him out and spoken to him – the last who had really cared to was gone now, thoughts that blended with his own, so much anger and pain it stifled them both. He missed the Anders who had visited him as his body had begun to fail him, who had argued and listened and argued again but had _cared_ so deeply for justice that Justice couldn’t help but feel it as care for him. He had felt the goodness in Hawke with the question, and he had seen the need for vengeance in him as his eyes locked on Anders’ scars. He was worthy of Anders, and Justice was glad he could let them have this. That they could be happy, and they could have each other, at least for a time.


	5. Chapter 5

“No objections here.”

Hawke curled his fingers around Anders’ hips, holding him steady against the bed. He wanted to tease – couldn’t help but wonder if Anders’ silence would continue if Hawke put his mind to unravelling him – but in truth he thought he’d break long before Anders. Hawke groaned and slid his lips over the head of Anders’ cock, and slid down until he almost gagged around him.

It was as good as he’d imagined, Anders’ cock was thick and rested heavily against his tongue. Hawke’s lips were stretched around the shaft and as he began to move he pressed up firmly with his tongue, tracing patterns on the underside as he began to work his way closer towards the base.

Anders’ breath came in harsh pants as Hawke moved, his hips struggling under the firm pressure of his hands. His hand slid briefly into Hawke’s hair before dropping to his side, and Hawke rose off his cock just long enough to give him permission before sinking down again, this time with the firm pressure of Anders’ palm against his scalp. A little further and he gagged, rose up to catch his breath and sank down again, and this time he took the head of Anders’ cock into the tight heat of his throat with ease.

“That’s…” Anders’ voice was a whisper, and he paused as if uncertain he should speak. Hawke gave a rumbling groan of encouragement around his cock and Anders’ breath hitched. “That’s so good. You’re so good – please, I need…”

Hawke slowly drew his lips up Anders’ length, sucking firmly and pressing the flat of his tongue against him. He reached the tip and opened his eyes, staring up at Anders through his lashes as he swirled his tongue around the head, ran the tip of it across the slit and captured the salty fluid that gathered there. Anders’ grip tightened in his hair and he shuddered, the muscles in his arm tensing and his stomach tightening as he breathed raggedly. Hawke had hoped for a moan, but he’d take that – the rapt expression on Anders’ face, and the visible tension in every straining muscle. Hawke swept his tongue again and this time Anders nearly did moan – his gasp pitching higher and catching in his throat. Hawke groaned in response, and keeping his eyes locked on Anders’, he relaxed his throat and took his cock down to the base.

Anders’ eyes widened and he bit down hard on his lip, beautifully flushed with his chest heaving and beaded with sweat. Hawke held his cock in place for a moment, adjusting to the pressure against the back of his throat and the stifling thickness of it. Then he began to move, long, slow, deliberate strokes as he let his lips, tongue and throat work over every inch of Anders’ stiff length.

Hawke hooked his fingers in the waistband of Anders’ loosened trousers and, without breaking his rhythm or eye contact, he began to tug them down. Anders’ hips jerked and Hawke gagged, but kept going with a muffled moan his only response to Anders’ gasped apology. He ran his hands over Anders’ slender thighs, feeling soft hair and a slight unevenness to the skin – parallel ridges of scars he did not acknowledge as he cupped his hands under Anders’ ass and squeezed. His ass was small and firm, but it felt nicely curved against his palms and Hawke was determined to investigate it thoroughly later. For now he contented himself with kneading it firmly, fingertips digging into soft, smooth skin as Anders bit back a whimper and arched up against Hawke’s mouth.

Anders’ cock leaked with every drag across his tongue, it pulsed with every thrust into Hawke’s throat, and Anders’ high, sharp gasps were coming faster and louder as Hawke quickened his pace. Hawke gripped his ass harder, adding a gentle tug each time he swallowed around him, burying his nose against the dark, coarse hair at the base and feeling Anders’ balls press up against his chin. Anders’ second hand joined the first in his hair, fingers curled like claws against is scalp and twisting dark strands between them to pull and push as Hawke dragged him closer.

“I’m close,” Anders gasped, and Hawke gave a moan of encouragement around the twitching length. He slid up to the tip and reluctantly removed one hand from Anders’ ass to wrap around the shaft, slick with saliva as he combined lips and tongue and the firm pumps of his fist to drag Anders’ orgasm from him.

Anders’ body jerked, legs clamping against Hawke’s sides and his head thrown back with a hiss between his teeth as his cock pulsed suddenly against Hawke’s tongue. Hawke moaned, swallowing rapidly as Anders spilled across his tongue, pressing against the sensitive spot below the head as Anders hands curled into fists in his hair and his hips jerked uncontrollably. Hawke could see his mouth moving – no sound escaping but he was mouthing Hawke’s name, _Garrett_ on his breath and outlined by his bite-swollen lips.

Hawke considered stopping. He was still soft, but the memory of those unnaturally warm hands reminded him that he didn’t have to be, and he wanted to know how it would feel to thrust between those lips. He wanted his hands balled in that silky red-gold hair, he wanted to know if Anders could summon magic to his tongue as easily as to his fingertips, and see the overflowing trickles of his seed across that flushed skin. Hawke groaned and tightened his one-handed grip on Anders’ ass. Anders’ cock was still solid in his mouth – he could wait.

Hawke withdrew his hand from Anders’ cock and resumed his long, deep strokes, bobbing his head up and down eagerly as Anders’ hands slid from his hair and fell back against the bed to clench in the sheets. He cupped his balls in his palm, smiling as best he could around the thick shaft at the choked gasp Anders gave. He stroked his fingertips against the sensitive skin, making Anders’ shudder, and loosened his lips to let the saliva gathered in his mouth run down the shaft to gather in his palm. His quick movements dragged wet sounds from his lips, cut with his own groans and Anders’ shuddering gasps, and their combined noises made his cock begin to respond, shifting against his thigh.

Hawke slid his hand lower, letting the wetness coat his fingers as he eased them into the cleft of Anders’ ass. He caught his eye and raised an eyebrow, sucking hard as he continued to work his cock. Anders caught his meaning, and Hawke waited long enough to be sure Justice had got the message too, for Anders ragged gasp of _yes_ and _please_ and _Garrett,_ before he felt his way down to Anders’ tight entrance and began to circle it with a wet fingertip.

The effect on Anders was instant – his thighs tightening as he tried to grind down against the gentle pressure, and his mouth falling open to take rough, shuddering breaths. Hawke groaned around his cock – he hadn’t expected that, not from so little. The thought of how Anders’ would look when Hawke finally thrust into him, how good it would feel to have him writhe like that against him, made Hawke’s cock stir again and dragged another low groan from his throat. He gently worked Anders’ loose with a fingertip, aware that saliva alone wasn’t enough for much but he wasn’t going to move to find something better – not now – not with Anders’ cock throbbing between his lips and his fingers twisting in the sheets.

Hawke kept his eyes locked on Anders’ as he slid his finger into him slowly to the first knuckle. Anders’ breath hitched and he eased his legs further apart, and Hawke took his cock deep as he worked his finger fully into him.

From there, Hawke could tell Anders wouldn’t last much longer. Hawke curled his finger until he felt Anders’ hips jerk, then kept the firm pressure as he gently rocked his hand against him. He bobbed and swallowed around his rigid cock, sucking firmly and tracing intricate patterns with his tongue until Anders was squirming and his back was arched like a bow. Hawke ground his hips against the bed, his own cock only half-hard but already he was desperate for more, the stifled little half-sounds Anders made combined with the strong, salty taste on his tongue and the hot, tight clench of his ass around his finger was too much. He never wanted to stop touching him, never wanted to stop wringing pleasure out of his stunning, responsive body. Another firm press of his fingertip deep inside him, one last swipe of his tongue, and Anders came with a muffled cry, biting his lip and thrusting up sharply into Hawke’s eager mouth.

Hawke withdrew his finger carefully, and slid off Anders length with a wet pop. His beard was soaked, his lips were sore, and there was a rawness in his throat when he swallowed – _Maker_ , he was out of practise. Anders didn’t seem to mind – his chest heaved and the flush across his cheeks had spread over his neck and chest. Hawke grinned as he helped Anders’ out of his crumpled trousers and underclothes, leaving him naked and splayed out beautifully across the sheets.

The scars on his thighs were far less pronounced than the others, barely visible through the dusting of hair, but Hawke noticed the way the damaged skin puckered under his grip even though he knew not to ask questions. Later, perhaps, if Anders chose to talk. If not, Hawke could accept he held some secrets close. He had already shared so much.

“You taste amazing,” he said hoarsely, sliding his hands over Anders’ hips and onto his sweat-dampened chest. “I could spend the whole night down there.”

“I wouldn’t complain.” Anders grinned and propped himself up on his elbows, and Hawke leaned down to meet him half way and brought their lips together.

“You might,” Hawke groaned, voice muffled against Anders’ lips. He gave up on finishing the sentence for the moment, letting Anders’ tongue slip into his mouth and feeling his breath catch at the taste of himself still clinging to Hawke’s tongue. Hawke gripped a handful of Anders’ hair to hold him close, and for a few moments all that existed were the languid strokes of their tongues and Hawke’s low moans muffled by Anders’ mouth.

“You were saying?” Anders said with a smirk as they broke apart.

“You might complain,” Hawke said breathlessly, running his thumb over Anders’ lower lip. “Because the other option involves me fingering your ass until you’re begging to be fucked.”

“Oh,” Anders gasped. Hawke grinned, toying with his lip as Anders eyes widened. “Yes, that sounds – Maker, Garrett, _yes_.”


	6. Chapter 6

Anders scooted up to recline against the pillows watching Hawke move in the firelight. He stood, glancing back over his shoulder at Anders like he knew exactly what he was doing as he rolled his shoulders back and shoved his loose trousers the rest of the way down his legs. Anders’ breath caught as the fabric whispered over his thighs. Even now – after having his hands on Hawke’s body, Hawke’s lips wrapped around his cock – he still couldn’t quite believe this was real. Hawke was everything he’d imagined and more, sculpted muscle under just a hint of softness, thick dark hair on his chest and scattered over his legs.

Anders grinned as Hawke caught him staring – he was _allowed_ , it was so easy to forget after three years of trying his best not to look whenever Hawke partially undressed around him. As a healer, he’d had his hands on Hawke’s broad shoulders and chest several times, and once his wounds were closed and Anders’ heart stopped hammering, it had been tempting to stare. There was no reason not to anymore, and he drank in the sight of Hawke’s nude body as he paced across the room to hunt through a chest of drawers.

“You’d think I’d have found this earlier,” Hawke said with an apologetic laugh. “Sorry – I, honestly, I don’t think I thought much at all after that _kiss._ Somehow managed to find my way back here with my brain melting and running out of my ears.”

“That’s quite the mental image.”

Hawke found what he’d been hunting for – a small bottle of a light coloured oil – and returned to the bed, joining Anders propped up against the pillows. He ran his hand over Anders’ thigh, his fingertips warm and rough against his skin. He dropped the bottle between them and slid his other arm under Anders’ body around his waist, pulled him closer and splayed his hand across his back. There was no pain in the scars, but Anders had expected to be more uneasy with them being touched. The skin felt slightly deadened, thickened in places in ways that felt strange when it creased, and he knew the sight of them was disturbing. He hadn’t wanted to inflict that part of himself on Hawke – the personal side of his anger, that Justice had helped him accept, embrace, and then mostly set aside. It was about all mages, not just him – and although Justice always bristled at the thought, Anders couldn’t help but think he’d been lucky. He had witnessed worse.

“You look worried,” Hawke said gently, his hand stilling on Anders’ thigh. “Moving too fast?”

“No.” Anders smiled, and let himself reach up to comb his fingertips through Hawke’s beard. “I’m just surprised how easy this is.”

“So easy,” Hawke chuckled as he slid his hand up Anders’ leg. “So far I’ve had to gain the trust of a spirit, and I _may_ have slightly dislocated my jaw…”

“The healer thinks you’ll be _fine_.”

“I know what you mean though,” Hawke said, leaning forward to kiss Anders’ frown until it softened. “I was nervous, if I’m honest. There’s been so many times the last couple of years I’ve thought you were about to throw yourself at me and didn’t, I thought I’d spend the whole night worrying I was going to scare you off.” He laughed, and skimmed his lips down to kiss the tip of Anders’ nose. “Feels like you belong here,” he murmured. “Feels like we fit.”

Anders kissed him – he’d been going for loving but it felt a little more desperate, overwhelmed as he pressed himself against Hawke’s chest and crushed their lips together. They fit, mouths moving together easily now, no hesitation as each understood the other, and Hawke’s growl took Anders’ breath away. Anders let his eyes fall closed, caught up in the hot, wet movement of Hawke’s mouth, the friction of his beard against his chin and the firm pressure of his hand against his back. The hand on his thigh moved away for a moment, and when it returned Anders’ breath caught – Hawke’s fingers were coated with oil.

“Get yourself hard,” Hawke groaned against his mouth, and Anders did – mind fogged with pleasure and urgent need as he wrapped a tingling hand around his cock and felt creation magic rush through him. It only took seconds, and Hawke’s hand gently nudged his aside to trail over his length.

“Where did you learn _that_?”

“Karl,” Anders said, feeling a dull pang in his chest.

“Shit – stupid question…” Hawke started to pull back but Anders caught him by the shoulders, pulling him closer and kissing him hard, kissing until it stopped hurting, until Hawke was all that existed – pushing him gently onto his back as his slick fingers dipped between his legs. Anders bent his knees as Hawke settled between his thighs. An oiled finger brushed against him, teasing for a moment as Hawke’s tongue swept across his lips followed by a graze of teeth.

“So, Justice didn’t object when I did this before?” Hawke said softly, his fingertip circling Anders’ entrance. Anders shook his head, and bit Hawke’s lip with a sharp intake of breath as Hawke’s finger slowly slid into him.

“If you haven’t…” Hawke groaned as he began to move his finger in slow, steady thrusts. “Maker, you feel good. If you haven’t done this in a while – I’m going to try to make this feel good but if it hurts – does Justice understand accidental damage or am I going to have some righteous fury to deal with?”

“He uh – he knows.” Anders felt his cheeks burn.

“Now _that’s_ interesting.” Hawke pulled back a little and Anders looked up and caught the mischievous glint in his eye. “You’ve been practicing.” He slid his finger deep, pulling a gasp from Anders and beginning to quicken his strokes, deep, raw pleasure beginning to build at the base of Anders’ spine. “Tell me,” Hawke groaned. “Did you fuck yourself on your hand and think about me?”

“Do you really need me to stroke your ego?” Anders’ hips bucked and he arched his back. “I think – nngh – you know I’m interested.”

“Maybe I just like the mental image.” Hawke kneeled up and gripped Anders’ thigh firmly, pushing back to spread his legs further under Hawke’s gaze. “You look so good like this.” His voice was low and hoarse, and seemed to drag up Anders’ spine and prickle across his scalp. “Was it like this?” Hawke slid a second finger into him and Anders almost cried out, biting down hard on his lip. “Did you tease yourself?” he growled, thrusting slowly with slightly curled fingers until Anders writhed. “Or were you rough – Maker, I can just imagine you, up against the wall in your clinic, grinding against your hand and imagining my cock.” He sped up, each firm stroke of his fingers brushing against the sensitive spot inside Anders that made him pant and shudder, pressing himself down helplessly against Hawke’s hand.

“Yeah,” Anders panted. “Like that.”

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” He paused for a moment and removed his fingers, leaving Anders aching with frustration. Hawke poured a little more oil into his palm, then slid his free hand down to grip Anders’ ass. “Turn over?”

Anders did without hesitation – any remaining self-consciousness fled at the thought of being bent over, spread out under Hawke, with those skilled fingers buried in him again. He turned onto all fours with his hands clenched in the pillows, then collapsed forward onto his chest with a stifled groan as oil dripped from Hawke’s fingers, teasing his sensitive skin with the cool, damp trickles. Hawke’s fingers skimmed down to tease his entrance again, and Anders buried his face in the soft pillows to muffle his whimper.

“Can you just stay right there forever?” Hawke groaned, and Anders’ felt the warmth of his breath against his skin for a second before a gentle bite just below his hip made him gasp. “An ass like this needs to be appreciated.” His mouth was replaced by his hand, skimming down to squeeze firmly at the firm muscle, spreading Anders open. Anders panted against the pillow, parted lips dampening the silk as Hawke finally slid his fingers back into him – no more teasing, he sheathed them in one sharp thrust. Anders’ hands clenched as Hawke rocked his hand against him, quick, sharp strokes that sent white-hot pleasure arcing through him with each thrust.

“Fuck,” Hawke gasped, his voice roughened. “Oh fucking Maker, Anders, if you could see how good…” his breath caught, and he kneaded Anders’ ass roughly in time with his thrusts. “You’re _shaking,_ could you come like this? Just from my fingers?”

“Nn…” Anders’ words failed him as Hawke’s fingers hit him at just the right angle, sending a jolt of pleasure up his spine that seemed to shatter all thought. “I – don’t think so.”

“Then I could do this all night,” Hawke breathed, pressing deeply into him and pressing his fingertips hard against the sensitive spot that left Anders’ thighs trembling, threatening to collapse. “Of course, I think I might _die_ if I don’t get my cock inside you soon.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Anders gasped. He slid his knees further apart on the bed, lowering his hips. A little lower and he could grind his cock against the sheets, but Hawke’s firm grip on his ass stopped him dropping any further. Hawke spread his fingers slightly, and the increase in stretch made Anders hiss and rock back urgently against his hand.

“Ready for a third?” Hawke said. Anders’ incoherent sound must have made enough sense to Hawke, because he felt another cool splash of oil spill over Hawke’s fingers and then the hot, tight stretch of three thick fingers sliding into him.

Anders’ nerves felt frayed raw, every inch of his body flooded with heat and sensation, pulled tight between the gentle push of Hawke’s fingers into him and the sharp rasp of Hawke’s breath. Hawke’s hands were bigger than his own, and the stretch was right on the edge of too much, a dull burn around the intrusion as he willed himself to relax, and tension coiled tight and hot inside him. He could feel oil seeping between Hawke’s fingers with every thrust, trickles of warmth spilling over his balls and trailing over his aching cock. Hawke groaned, hand still working slowly as he leaned forward to press his lips to the small of Anders’ back.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he gasped. “Is this alright – am I rushing this? You’re just so – Maker, I can barely think with you looking this good.”

“It’s good,” Anders managed to choke out.

“Justice still comfortable?”

Anders felt for him – he’d rather not draw Justice’s attention right now but he knew Hawke was right. The response was quick – Justice had drawn back but not too deep, his mind still cautiously absorbing Anders’ thoughts and trying to make sense of them. The first emotion Anders sensed was curiosity – then caution – but no distress.

“He’s fine.”

Hawke smiled against his skin, his hot breath coming faster now as he slid up Anders’ body to brace over him, his cock resting heavily against Anders’ inner thigh as he bit and sucked his way along Anders’ shoulder and quickened the steady thrusts of his fingers.

“He still listening?” Hawke’s lips drifted up his neck to hover just behind his ear. His fingers were moving faster again, Anders had adjusted to the thickness and there was no discomfort, only the thick, solid length of them sliding into him. Hawke’s teeth tugged at his ear and Anders arched his back with a sharp gasp, eyes falling closed as he writhed under each thrust.

“Mm,” was the best he could manage, clenching his fists against the pillows and shuddering helplessly under each thrust.

“Good,” Hawke growled. “Because…” another scrape of teeth, another shaking breath across Anders’ ear as Hawke’s erection ground into his thigh. “I need to know how he feels about one more of us getting inside your body.”

***

Justice felt a brief increase in the sensations currently overwhelming Anders’ body as he surged closer to the surface, irritation dragging him forward before he got control of himself. He heard Hawke’s surprised curse and Anders’ hasty apology as he settled down, coiled in the back of Anders’ mind.

 _He makes a mockery of our sacred agreement,_ he thought, realising that Anders couldn’t hear and was unlikely to understand. He found humour difficult at the best of times, and although this moment was not unpleasant, it was already stretching his patience for mortal behaviour to its limit. Anders’ emotions were chaotic, and Justice was finding them difficult to process. Desire was the most intense, and he skirted around each twist of it cautiously – the sensation of it seemed strong enough it was near pain even for Anders, and he was accustomed to it. He couldn’t avoid the heated glow of affection that filled Anders’ thoughts, however, and although it was pleasant, he would not describe it as comfortable exactly. It awakened curiosity in him that he did not wish to explore, and dragged to mind memories of a dead man and a dead man’s wife who he had tried to forget.

“Well, that was a strong no,” Hawke said. “But was it a no to the sex, or a no to the _awful_ joke?”

“Justice has never had a particularly good sense of humour,” Anders said. He was still breathless, but Justice’s interruption had separated the mortals and Hawke had rocked back onto his knees while Anders lay on his side.

“Well, that’s something we have in common at least.” Hawke leaned forward to slide his hand up Anders’ thigh – cautiously, Justice noticed with a cringe. Hawke had been so careful with him, and he had frightened him in return.

“Justice is – I think he’s trying to apologise.” Anders reached out to pull Hawke close as he turned onto his back. “Lots of guilt.”

“Nothing to apologise for,” Hawke said. He ground his hard length against Anders’, and for a few moments neither of them spoke. Justice felt the sounds in Anders’ mind he could not let loose – Hawke groaned eagerly at every touch, but Anders swallowed back every sound he could contain, panic tightening around his heart when he failed. Justice nudged at the knots of fear, trying to loosen them, but with no effect.

“It was – at least I think it was just how you said it,” Anders gasped, a moan stuck in his throat that only Justice heard. Hawke’s hand was between his legs again, fingers groping blindly until they found their target and traced teasing circles that made Anders squirm.

“Then I’ll try again.” Hawke braced himself over Anders’ body, looking him in the eye. Justice appreciated the effort, although he didn’t quite understand the reason. His ears worked just as efficiently without seeing Hawke’s face. “Justice, can I…”

He didn’t have to finish the question, Justice understood the progression of things from the half-thoughts drifting in Anders’ mind. He signalled his consent – already it was becoming easier, communication with Anders was far more simple when he was consciously listening, his mind reaching out for Justice’s hopefully.

“Yes,” Anders said.

“He’s eager,” Hawke chuckled, scooping one of Anders’ legs up onto his chest with his knee draped over his shoulder. Anders thrust his hips up, grinding Hawke’s cock against his ass and making both of them gasp.

“No, I am,” he said, trying to keep his voice firm despite the amusement he concealed and the desire he did not. “Justice is just cooperative.”

“I hope he knows I appreciate it.” Hawke leaned forward, one arm braced on the bed beside Anders’ head, the other between their bodies as he lined himself up. “I’ll have to get him something nice. A Templar’s head, maybe.”

 _Such a gift would be impractical, and indiscreet,_ Justice thought. Hawke’s bulk over his – Anders’ – body seemed to block out the light, looming between them and the fire, his thick forearm close against their – _Anders’_ – cheek. Something made Justice’s mind flinch – a memory of darkness and stone, pressing in on him from all sides and above. It was two places at once – a cramped cell and the blackness of the deep roads mingling into a blurred image that made his chest tighten sharply.

“Can we…” Anders’ breath caught and he pressed his palm against Hawke’s chest. “Maybe a different position?”

“Yeah, of course.” Hawke pulled back immediately and Justice felt his mind loosen, and sent another wave of regret into Anders’ mind. They both feared small spaces, but Anders had felt no such discomfort pinned beneath Hawke, he had felt safe. Justice wished he could give his trust so easily.

“Here,” Hawke said, his hand on Anders’ waist as he fell back against the pillows and encouraged Anders up. “You take control, that better?”

Anders nodded breathlessly as he straddled Hawke’s body, thighs looking very white where they crossed Hawke’s tanned skin. Hawke’s chest shone in the orange glow of the dying fire, damp with sweat and rising and falling sharply as Anders positioned himself above him. Hawke’s hand was on his cock again, stroking slowly as he pressed the head up against Anders entrance. He groaned and tilted his head back, drawing his full lower lip between his teeth.

Justice had seen enough – Anders was safe with this mortal, as much as Justice was not certain he liked him, and was not quite ready to trust him, he did not believe Anders was in immediate danger. He retreated into the deepest part of his mind, curling up quietly with half-forgotten thoughts. The rising peak of Anders’ pleasure filtered down from above, and Justice paid it no mind. His host was content, that was enough.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more chapters to go after this one :) As long as the characters behave :P

Hawke’s heart was hammering against his ribcage, and every breath was a rough pant as he swept his gaze over Anders’ body. Justice seemed to have forgiven him and there was no sign of blue glow in his skin – just pale gold in the firelight, with his mass of red-blond hair lit orange by the dying flames. Hawke stroked the oiled length of his cock, groaning as Anders leaned forward with one hand braced against his chest and positioned himself over him.

Hawke lined up his cock, finding Anders’ loosened entrance by feel and pressing the head up firmly against it until Anders gasped. Anders’ free hand gripped his ass to spread himself, and Hawke bit his lip with a groan as he imagined how he’d look from behind, exposed and eager and ready to be fucked.

Anders took a deep, shuddering breath and eased back. Hawke’s cock was engulfed in impossible heat and tightness, oil dripping down his length as Anders took the first couple of inches and stopped, panting harshly with his fingertips digging into Hawke’s skin. Hawke gripped his hip hard – no pressure, he wouldn’t rush this, but he felt the need to hold on to _something._

“Fuck,” he groaned.  

Anders leaned in a little closer, his hair hanging around his face as he looked down at Hawke and panted harshly. His fingertips pressed hard against Hawke’s chest and he pushed back, eyes fluttering shut as he bit his lip and eased himself down Hawke’s cock.

“That – that good?” Hawke gasped out, fighting the urge to thrust up – Maker, this was too good, and this was _Anders,_ and honestly it was probably for the best he was taking it slow because if he could fuck him the way he’d imagined he doubted he’d last a minute.

“Y-yeah.” Anders’ breath almost broke into a moan, a stifled half-sound that only made Hawke hungry for more. He wanted him to _scream,_ and could tell it wouldn’t be tonight but he’d happily spend the rest of his life trying if that’s what it took. “’s just – nngh – a bit more than your fingers.”

Hawke’s half-formed thoughts of slowing down fled as Anders exhaled sharply and slid down fully on Hawke’s length. Hawke’s hand clenched on his hip, no longer able to resist grinding his hips up hard against him as he dragged Anders as close as it was possible to be with a rough cry of his name. _Maker,_ he didn’t know if he’d forgotten or if it had just never felt this good, and as he groaned again he realized his voice was shaking. He was sheathed fully in incredibly tight, slick heat, mind fogged with pleasure as he slid his free hand up Anders’ thigh to grip hard, feeling the taut muscle straining under his hand. Hawke couldn’t imagine anything better – then Anders straightened up and began to move.

There was little Hawke could do but lie back against the mound of pillows and watch him ride, narrow hips rising and falling with agonizing slowness, the smooth, gliding pressure around Hawke’s cock making him moan and clutch at Anders and grind up helplessly against him. Anders leaned back to brace his hands on Hawke’s broad thighs, fingers digging in sharply as he moved, slender body arched and head thrown back with his lips parted loosely and his eyes half-shut.

“Maker, you’re perfect,” Hawke groaned. He loosened his hold on Anders’ hip to run his fingers over his belly, tracing the pattern of his freckles as smooth planes of muscle shifted under his hand. Anders’ chest heaved with every ragged breath, droplets of sweat descending over his skin and gleaming in the firelight. Hawke gripped his waist two-handed, slid his hands up over his ribs to hold him tightly as Anders twisted, arched, and his gasp became a faint keen as Hawke met his descent with a sharp thrust.

Anders hands tightened on his thighs, and he bit his lip hard to hold back the moans Hawke could tell he was almost dragging from him. He thrust up again, skin slapping sharply against Anders’ ass and making his body jerk from the impact. He wanted to grab his hips, hold him in place and slam up into him again and again, leave him trembling and moaning helplessly but – not tonight, not now, Anders needed this to be on his terms – and on Justice’s.

Hawke positioned his hands to run his thumbs over Anders’ nipples as he moved, groaning in response to Anders’ needy little gasp. He pushed himself up on his elbows, looking up at Anders’ face and the fluid movement of the muscles in his shoulders. Hawke kept his left hand in place, sliding the right up around Anders’ back to grip his shoulder, feeling those toned muscles jump against his palm, and dug in his fingertips just enough to hear Anders gasp sharply again.

He let his gaze trail down over Anders’ body again, breath catching at the sight of his cock. The head glistened in the low light, and Hawke half wanted to haul Anders up his body to wrap his lips around it again. He dropped his left hand to tease Anders with his fingers, smearing wetness as he ran one finger over the top of his cock and dragged it down the shaft.

“ _Maker_ ,” Anders breathed, and there was a shudder in his thighs as he rose and fell again.

“Garrett,” Hawke corrected with a smirk, and Anders laughed breathlessly and tipped forward, bracing his hands on Hawke’s chest.

“You feel…” Anders panted, rolling his hips faster now, the new angle leaving him flushed and with an urgency in his breath Hawke was starting to recognise. “So good – Garrett you’re…”

His hands dropped to Hawke’s sides and he leaned in close, chest to chest as he kissed Hawke hard. Their tongues met as Hawke moaned, loud and unrestrained as he curled his fingers around Anders’ cock and gripped his shoulder tightly, thrusting up into the writhing, trembling body above him. Muffled by Hawke’s lips, Anders gained the confidence to let himself moan softly, so quiet Hawke felt more than he heard but that was enough. Those sharp, desperate little cries sent heat racing down to the base of his cock, pleasure building fast and urgent, dragging him over the edge before he even knew he was close. His orgasm was sudden and intense, blurring his vision as he sunk his teeth into Anders’ lip with a harsh grunt as he dug his fingers into Anders’ shoulder and rode out every throbbing shock of pleasure with deep, hard thrusts.

Anders didn’t even pause – he slid his hand down between their bodies and encircled the base of Hawke’s cock with his fingers, smirked against his lips, and summoned magic in his palm. Hawke had never felt anything like it – couldn’t have described it even if his mind hadn’t been emptied by raw sensation. It was heat and cold all at once, caressing tingles and a deep hum that felt as if it was stroking his skin from the inside. Hawke groaned, resuming his steady, deep thrusts as Anders withdrew his hand.

“Can’t – _fuck –_ can’t get enough?” Hawke panted as Anders pulled back from the kiss.

“After – three – _ah_ – years?” Anders shook his head. “Never.”

Anders grabbed Hawke’s shoulders with shaking hands as Hawke adjusted his grip on his cock and stroked him in time with the urgent movements of their bodies. Anders rocked back against him and Hawke met him with firm, steady thrusts, groaning at each audible impact of skin on skin. Anders’ hips ground against him each time he sank fully into him, drawing sharp gasps from Anders’ lips until Hawke pulled him close to kiss him again. He was eager, demanding, thrusting his tongue into Anders’ mouth to capture his taste and feel the muffled cries he couldn’t fully hold back. Hawke let his hand drift from Anders’ shoulder to his ass, gripping a handful of the firm muscle as he stroked and fucked and kissed, hand and cock and lips working to turn Anders into a shuddering, panting mess. He writhed above Hawke, sucking hard on Hawke’s lip and nipping at the bruised flesh before pressing their lips together again and gasping sharply, back arched and thighs trembling as he spilled over Hawke’s hand.

“More,” he whispered. “Garrett, _please_ don’t stop.”

Hawke sat up, pushing Anders back until they were face to face. He couldn’t thrust easily but he cupped Anders’ ass and guided him to ride him hard. Anders arched his back, giving Hawke access to his sharp collarbones, the scattered freckles on his chest and the pale column of his throat. Hawke stroked him faster and leaned forward to kiss the familiar constellations of freckles, tracing patterns with his tongue.

“How d’you feel about marks?” he groaned, dragging his teeth gently over Anders’ collarbone.

“Yes,” Anders panted, driving himself down hard on Hawke’s cock and hissing sharply between his teeth. His cock throbbed in Hawke’s palm, and his thighs were trembling again.

“ _Yes_ isn’t a feeling,” Hawke teased, and Anders hand tangled sharply in his hair to tug him closer to his neck.

“ _Please._ ”

Hawke considered pointing out that _please_ wasn’t a feeling either, but he couldn’t resist Anders when he begged, not with that beautiful throat arched in front of him, Anders’ chin tilted back and hair bouncing with every descent of his hips. Hawke traced a line of freckles with the tip of his tongue, then pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the skin surrounding the highest one and sucked hard.

Anders’ hand in his hair became a fist, and he panted roughly as Hawke drew the sensitive flesh between his lips, scraping over it with just the slightest hint of teeth. He swept his tongue over Anders’ skin, and sucked hard again, lips tingling from the effort but _Maker,_ it was good to feel Anders squirm.

Hawke let his lips drift higher, no chance any high collar would hide this – he sucked firmly, released the pressure to nip gently at the red mark left behind, then sucked again at the same spot until Anders was writhing on him, thighs clenched tight against his. Hawke stroked him faster, gripped his ass harder, pulled Anders against him again and again with sharp, quick thrusts that quickly dragged him towards his own peak again. Hawke could feel his control slipping, strokes of Anders’ cock dissolving into uneven, shaky jerks of his hand but it didn’t matter – they were both too close now for it to hold them back. Anders came first, body straining as he hissed Hawke’s name and slammed himself down hard on his stiff length. He clenched around him as his warm come splashed over Hawke’s belly, and that was enough. Caught up in raw sensation and the sound of his name on Anders’ lips, Hawke muffled his hoarse cry against Anders’ neck and kneaded his ass as his cock throbbed and pulsed inside him. Pleasure raced across his skin, his pulse thundered in his veins, and he slumped against Anders’ body with a whimper.

They collapsed together, sweat-soaked and panting, limp bodies tangled together and ending up sprawled half way down the bed. Anders was splayed out on his back with Hawke on top of him, Anders’ – or Justice’s he wasn’t certain – discomfort momentarily forgotten. Hawke tried to move away when he realised, but Anders pulled him close and smiled up at him, fingers brushing Hawke’s hair out of his eyes.

“I love you,” he said. He looked dazed, a relaxed smile unlike any Hawke had ever seen softening his gaze and playing over his lips. “I’ve been holding back from saying that. You should have a normal life, not be tied down to a fugitive with no future. But I don’t ever want to leave you.”

“Don’t ever leave.” Hawke reacted without thought – there were a thousand things he wanted to say, and in hindsight, _I love you_ should have been high on the list, along with reassurances and promises that Anders _did_ have a future, and it was with him. But the thought of Anders leaving left a nasty heavy feeling in his chest – they’d waited too long, he wanted him _here._

“Do you mean that?” Anders’ eyes widened, running his hand down over Hawke’s face, his neck, down to clutch at his shoulder as if he wasn’t sure he was really there. “Would you have me here, living with you? Would you tell the world, the knight-commander, that you love an apostate and you will stand beside him?”

 _Well, staying the night would be a good start,_ Hawke thought. But the thought of Anders leaving in the morning – of ever having to go to bed alone again, after so long – no. It was fast and it was reckless but it was so _them_ , it was what he wanted, what Anders needed, and the truth was he didn’t have to think about his answer at all.

“I want you right here. Until the day we die.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more to go! I can commit to that now, I'm definitely on track - should have the final chapter online around the same time tomorrow. Thank you so much to everyone who's left comments and kudos so far, I'm so pleased by how much love this fic's got despite being a _ridiculous_ length ;) Enjoy!

“I want you right here. Until the day we die.”

Anders pulled Hawke down and kissed him hungrily. Even now, revealing the sudden rush of emotions he was feeling felt too much, too vulnerable, so he fled from it and poured every drop of his relief and love and gratitude into the kiss. Hawke’s lips were soft and warm, and already so familiar the way they moved against his. By the time Hawke pulled back he had regained his composure, though he could feel his eyelashes were damp and hoped Hawke wouldn’t be able to tell in the low light.

“I love you,” Hawke said, his lips moving along Anders’ jaw, to his neck, seeking out the freckles he enjoyed so much. “Maker, it’s good to be able to say it.”

The slight shift in their bodies as they got comfortable against each other brought Anders down to earth quickly. It was very romantic, pressed up close against Hawke’s warm bulk with his lips against his neck and voice soft in his ear, but the cooling sweat and the stickiness on his belly and trickling down his thigh was far less pleasant. Hawke seemed to notice at the same time he did, and pulled back with a grimace.

“There’s water by the fire,” he said, and sat up to give Anders room to move. “Should be warm – more or less, but if you want to…” he wiggled his fingers, in the way Anders had learned could mean anything magical from healing a broken limb – which he could do – to putting up their tents faster – which he had explained more than once, he could not.

“I’ll heat it,” he said with a grin, sliding off the bed and straightening up shakily. He hadn’t realised how exhausted he was until he had to walk, it felt as if his knees could give out at any moment, and there were a hundred little aches and pains, one for every moment he’d spent in Hawke’s bed. He could heal them with a thought, but he wouldn’t – the reminder was a pleasant one.

A floorboard creaked as Hawke stood behind him, and Anders looked back over his shoulder to admire Hawke’s body as he stood and stretched. He doubted he’d ever get tired of that sight, and judging by the way Hawke’s gaze was raking up and down his body, he felt the same. He warmed the water, the surface rippling above his fingers as energy built around them, perfectly controlled until steam began to rise from the wide bowl and Anders stopped and picked up a sponge to wash himself. Hawke joined him, looking up with a slightly embarrassed grin as he dabbed at the streaked fluids on his belly.

“Know any good cleaning spells?” he asked.

“Doesn’t quite work that way,” Anders laughed. He braced one hand against the wall as he sponged away the sweat from his chest and the back of his neck, water draining from the sponge to soak the tips of his hair and trickle pleasantly down his back. His upper body fully clean, he began to drag the sponge up his inner thigh – and was halted by a firm grip on his wrist.

“Let me?”

Anders turned to face Hawke, relinquishing his grip on the sponge. Hawke’s skin was beaded with water, rivulets streaming down his chest and over his thighs. Anders forced himself to drag his gaze back up, breath catching at the rise and fall of Hawke’s muscular chest in the firelight, until he was looking into his eyes. They were dark and heated, staring up into his own as Hawke encouraged him back to lean against the wall.

Hawke nudged his legs apart with his knee, running the sponge up over his skin and squeezing to send warm water cascading over his thigh. Anders’ hand shot out to steady himself on Hawke’s shoulder, and Hawke repeated the motion on his other thigh, crushing the sponge in his hand to press his fingertips against Anders’ skin.

“You’re tired,” Hawke said softly, his brow furrowing in thought as he traced patterns on Anders’ wet skin. “We should get some sleep.”

“We should.”

“And I suppose you’ll be opening the clinic tomorrow…”

“It doesn’t run itself.”

The sponge dropped to the floor with a wet thud against the hearth, and Hawke’s hands gripped Anders’ thighs firmly as he stepped in close and pressed his lips against Anders’ again, groaning into his mouth. Anders responded eagerly, threading damp fingers through Hawke’s hair and pulling him closer. He felt as if his skin was burning against Hawke’s fingertips, his lips tingled where Hawke’s mouth touched, and the idea of _sleeping_ was suddenly very far from his mind.

“Tell me if this is too much,” Hawke gasped. He dropped his head to rest his forehead against Anders’ shoulder for a moment, rough breath tickling his damp skin. “Knowing you, you haven’t slept in days, and I…”

“I can wait a little longer,” Anders said quickly, sliding his hands down Hawke’s body to grab his ass and drag his hips close. Hawke growled and nipped at his shoulder.

Hawke dropped to his knees abruptly, leaving Anders clawing at his shoulders and tilting his head back against the wall. His cock was soft, but stirred as Hawke’s tongue darted out to chase the beads of water that clung to it. Hawke was magic all on his own, his lips and hands quickly making Anders forget his exhaustion as he slipped his fingers between his legs and began to toy with his entrance.

“What does Justice think of me fucking you against the wall?” Hawke’s voice was ragged and eager, and Anders looked down in time to see Hawke press an open-mouthed kiss to his inner thigh, then suck hard. Anders’ knees almost gave out, but Hawke’s one-handed grip on his thigh held him firmly in place.

“He’s left me in your hands,” Anders said, trying to arch up against Hawke’s mouth but held firmly in place. “We can – _Maker,_ that’s good – we can do whatever you want.”

“Really?” Hawke swept his tongue over the flushed mark. “He trusts me?”

“I – wouldn’t exactly say that.” Anders pressed down urgently against Hawke’s fingers, swallowing back a needy whine as Hawke moved with him, refusing to give in. “He’s wary, but he knows what to expect from this. From us.”

“Alright.” Hawke smirked against Anders’ thigh, and glanced up through his lashes. “What do _you_ think of being fucked against the wall?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Anders thrust his hips forward with a gasp, chasing Hawke’s fingers. “Don’t tease.”

Hawke slid two fingers into him with a groan, sinking the full length of them into his stretched hole. Anders gripped his shoulders hard and began to grind desperately against his hand, needing more, needing _Hawke,_ mouthing his name silently as he fucked himself shamelessly on his fingers.

Hawke’s soft murmur of approval hummed against his skin, and Anders panted harshly as a third finger slid into him. He was ready – still slick with oil and the remains of Hawke’s come. Hawke was less gentle this time, fingers plunging into him in hard, quick strokes, his appreciative groans mingling with the wet sounds his hand made. Anders let himself slump back, held up by Hawke’s hands on him and _in_ him, and by the solid wall behind him.

“Get hard for me,” Hawke murmured.

Anders let magic build around his fingers, hearing Hawke’s hoarse moan at the caress of it across his skin, and then he wrapped his hand around his cock and let it do its work on him, leaving him hard and aching. He stroked himself in time with Hawke’s thrusts, and was rewarded with a roughened groan from Hawke and his hand tightened sharply on his thigh.

“Fuck, you look incredible,” Hawke said hoarsely. “Keep going.”

Even with magic, Anders wasn’t sure he could come again – it had been years since he’d pushed his body like this, and he’d been younger, healthier and – well, it had just been _his_ body then. But he wanted to – Maker, he _needed_ to – and with Hawke’s voice echoing in his ears and Hawke’s fingers filling him, stretching him, he was already beginning to respond. Liquid heat gathered low in his belly, and his skin felt flushed and sensitive as Hawke stood up and melded his body close against him.

“You’re ready.” Hawke withdrew his fingers from him, leaving Anders choking back a whimper at the sudden emptiness. Hawke’s slick fingers hooked under his thigh and brought it up to rest on his hip. “If you want this, you’re going to have to help me out too,” he said with a soft chuckle.

Anders released his own cock to channel magic into Hawke’s length. It hardened rapidly in his grasp, and Hawke thrust against his palm with a growl before hoisting his other leg up to position him. Hawke’s teeth scraped his collarbone and nipped at the thin skin there, and he groaned wantonly as Anders guided him to his entrance. With a sharp thrust, Hawke was inside him.

Anders wrapped his legs around Hawke’s waist, crossing his feet behind his back and clutching tightly with his thighs. He gripped Hawke’s shoulder with one hand, the other tangled in his mass of dark hair, and hung on tight as Hawke began to thrust into him. He was slow at first, gentle rocks of his hips that still left Anders panting, fingernails digging sharply into Hawke’s shoulder as Hawke’s thick length stretched him, filled him, rubbing over the sensitive place inside him that made heat coil and build.

Hawke was every bit as eager, mouthing at Anders’ neck and groaning low in his throat with every thrust, occasionally growling Anders’ name against his ear as their bodies moved together. Water pattered against the floor at their feet, and the wet tips of Anders’ hair clung to his skin as Hawke’s hands moved slowly over his skin, tracing the invisible lines between his freckles softly, reverently, as if committing every inch of his body to memory.

“Touch yourself,” Hawke gasped, his breath hot in Anders’ ear. “Let me watch you.”

Anders released Hawke’s hair to drop his hand between their bodies and curl his fingers around his cock. He matched Hawke’s pace, rolling his head back against the wall with a muffled whine as he bit down hard on his lip. Hawke’s hand snaked up behind him to cup the back of his head, fingers twisted in his loose, damp hair and holding him in place as they rocked together.

“D’you want it harder?” Hawke groaned, and all Anders could do was nod – if he spoke he thought he’d beg, moan, _scream_ as Hawke’s free hand continued to roam over his skin and his cock drove steadily into him.

With one hand still curled around the back of Anders’ head, the other dropping to grip his ass firmly, Hawke began to quicken his thrusts. Anders tasted blood as he bit and sucked hard on his lip, barely able to keep quiet but still _needing_ to, for reasons he only barely understood. Hawke’s hips slammed against him hard, jolting him against the wall each time his thick cock plunged into him. Hawke shifted slightly, adjusted his grip to tilt Anders’ hips and Anders hissed sharply as his thrusts deepened.

“This – alright?” Hawke managed, words punctuated with deep grunts with every powerful thrust.

“Yes.” Anders’ voice was high and shaken, and Hawke’s next thrust caught him with his lips parted and forced short, bitten off moan from him

“You’re so – nngh – so fucking good,” Hawke groaned. He leaned his forehead against Anders’, looking down at his bitten, swollen lips as he pounded into him. “I thought – of you like this. Every night for – for three years. _Fuck._ ”

His voice broke, words dissolving into a loud, desperate groan that he muffled against Anders’ lips. He kissed him roughly, growls escaping every time they broke apart to gasp for air and then crashed back together with teeth and tongue. Hawke’s breath was hot and rasping, and Anders bit at his full lips to make him moan and nip back in response.

Anders’ hand sped up around his cock, mind fogged with pleasure as each stroke of his hand dragged him closer and closer, heat and friction and the hard, deep thrusts of Hawke inside him. He gasped against Hawke’s lips, thighs clamping around his waist as he worked his cock and tried desperately to grind down against each thrust, pleasure overwhelming him even as he craved more.

“Harder,” he gasped as Hawke’s teeth grazed his lip.

Hawke moaned into his mouth, pushing him back firmly against the wall and giving him what he needed. Neither could last long like this – Hawke’s voice shook, his thrusts were unsteady, but Anders was only dimly aware of it all. His cock pulsed in his hand, his back arched and his gasps against Hawke’s lips were high and shaken as he came hard. It felt as if he’d shattered, for a moment every nerve burning white-hot, the next he was boneless in Hawke’s hands. He trembled in the aftershocks as Hawke thrust deep into him once more, stilled, and gasped his name breathlessly against his lips.

They were both unsteady on their feet as Hawke helped him lower his legs, and for a moment they stayed pressed together, leaning against the wall for strength. Hawke kissed him again – almost chaste now, lips moving gently over his and then brushing against his cheek before Hawke dropped his forehead against his shoulder again.

“I know magic can do a lot,” Hawke said eventually. “But if we do that again, I think I might drop dead during.”

“I think you’d survive,” Anders said, and Hawke chuckled softly and wrapped his arm around Anders’ waist.

“Can’t guarantee I’d stay awake, though.” He stooped to retrieve the dropped sponge, and stepped away to clean himself off as Anders did the same.

Anders noticed Hawke kept his back turned this time – they were both so drained they could barely stand, and the pleasant soreness Anders had noticed before was decidedly less pleasant now – yet neither of them quite trusted themselves not to be dragged back in by the other’s body. Anders felt the stirring in his mind of Justice cautiously returning to the surface, a rumble of disapproval in his thoughts as he detected the sore spots in Anders’ back and hips. He wasn’t sure if it was his idea or Justice’s to crawl into bed, but he certainly wasn’t going to argue about collapsing against the soft mound of pillows and pulling the silk sheets up around his shoulders.

“Making yourself at home?” Hawke slid in behind him, wrapping his arms around Anders’ waist and burrowing his face against his neck.

“Mm,” Anders said sleepily, and Hawke’s laugh against his neck made his skin tingle.

“I’m sorry I wore you out,” Hawke murmured. “Get some sleep, love.”

Anders wriggled back against him, tangling their legs together and pressing himself against Hawke at every available point. _Love._ He said it so casually – he couldn’t understand how precious an offer it was, how long Anders had thought he would never be given such a thing. Something in his thoughts stirred, something just out of reach and impossible to pin down, and then it dissolved as if it had never been there. Moments like that were common since merging with Justice, and he thought little of it, relaxing against Hawke’s chest with a happy sigh. He covered Hawke’s hand with his own, gripping tightly to reassure himself he was still close.

“You alright?” Hawke asked gently.

“For three years, I have lain awake every night aching for you,” Anders said quietly, running his thumb over Hawke’s knuckles, feeling every crease in his skin. “I’m still terrified I’ll wake up.”

“You will, in the morning.” Hawke kissed his shoulder and pulled him closer. “And I’ll be here. I promise.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last one! Thank you so much everyone who's been reading this, especially commenters and kudosers, I <3 you all! 
> 
> Very, very brief reference to self-harm in this one. Aside from that it's fluffy as hell though.

Despite his exhaustion, Anders’ body stayed awake for a while longer even as Hawke drifted off curled tight against his back. Justice settled back to his usual place, floating in Anders’ conscious thoughts and hovering just below his skin. Sensations were dulled but not absent, and he radiated concern and displeasure as he investigated ache after ache, nudging at Anders to heal himself. Anders brushed off his concerns – the injuries were harmless, but more than that, he was emotionally attached to them.

The idea of Anders desiring discomfort frightened Justice, bringing back memories of ragged nails on his thigh in a dark cell. He hadn’t realised he’d pushed the memory into Anders’ mind until he felt his pain and confusion in response, and Justice released the thought quickly and let it fade away. He never meant to cause fear – only to help Anders understand when his thoughts were taking him to places where he could be harmed. Anders never understood – he considered it an assault, and took Justice’s worries as interference. Justice tried to convey his apology to Anders, but it seemed to radiate only as guilt which Anders took to be his own. He healed himself and Justice subsided, hovering quietly in Anders mind and allowing him to return to his contented state.

Held tight in Hawke’s arms, Anders let sleep claim him. Justice could feel his mind go dormant around him, pulled away to brush against the veil as Anders’ dreams coiled around him. Fragments drifted through the space between them, the twisted chaos of intertwined minds where fears and intents collided. Justice could feel Anders’ dreams, and they were happy ones. It was rare that his host was spared his nightmares, and Justice was relieved that – at least for now – this night would be a peaceful one for them both.

He opened his eyes. Such a small disturbance would not awaken Anders, but he decided against extracting himself from Hawke’s arms. The prickle of his chest hair against his back was odd – not unpleasant, perhaps, but unfamiliar and distracting. He shifted slightly, and Hawke mumbled sleepily against the back of his neck and pulled him closer. Justice sighed, and remained still.

Justice wondered if they should have told Hawke that they glowed when Anders slept. He assumed Anders knew what he was doing, that he had some context Justice did not for why they had not mentioned it – Justice’s breath caught. Perhaps Anders did not _know._ He had had no reason to try to draw Anders’ attention to it – Anders had guessed he didn’t sleep but might not have understood quite what that meant. Justice looked down over the shape of his body, glowing fiercely through the sheets. Hawke’s face had twisted in his sleep to burrow against the pillows, and the room was lit in flickering blue light casting sharp, inky shadows.

 _We should leave,_ he thought, and began to gently unpeel Hawke’s hand from his waist. If he woke Anders he could try to explain his reasons – but if Hawke woke first…

The door latch rattled, jumped, and fell loose.

Justice froze, staring at the door with his glow building in intensity. Hawke groaned in his sleep and pressed his face further into the pillows. Justice tensed – whether it would frighten Hawke or not, if someone intended to attack these mortals while they slept he would destroy them. A warning rumble built in his chest and his lip curled as he watched the door. He heard the scrape of claws against the wood, and the door swung open.

A damp nose and soft, drool-coated jowls poked around the doorframe, shortly followed by the proud, wiggling bulk of Hawke’s mabari. Justice relaxed a little, staring suspiciously at the creature as it padded around the room. It seemed unconcerned by the light radiating from his skin, and snuffled intently at the discarded clothing strewn across the floor. Anders’ feathered coat had ended up not far from the dying embers of the fire, and the dog sat down happily on it, tail thumping against the ground and tongue lolling from its mouth. Justice watched a spot of drool land on the prized feathers. Anders would be unhappy. Justice would prefer that he was not.

“Move,” he commanded. Hawke grumbled behind him and wriggled, his grip tightening on Justice’s waist. The dog seemed unconcerned, it pricked up its ears in Justice’s direction but seemed disinterested in obeying orders. “Macaroni,” he said. The name was undignified – these mortals seemed to delight in inflicting foolish names on the animals they kept captive. “Macaroni, move.”

Macaroni tilted his head, and for a moment he seemed to consider Justice’s order as if it was a suggestion. Then he took a flying leap, landing hard on Justice’s legs.

Justice remained still, now effectively pinned by the combined strength of both Hawke and mabari. Disentangling himself would definitely wake Hawke – although miraculously, Macaroni’s flailing mess of knees and elbows didn’t seem to have done so – he would just have to hope that Anders was the first to wake. Justice settled down and prepared for a night of boredom, and closed his eyes.

Macaroni squirmed on top of him, inching up the bed until he was draped over Justice’s torso with his head and forelegs on the pillow beside him. Justice opened one eye curiously, and found himself face to face with the panting beast. Macaroni cocked his head with an excited whine, and stretched out his paw to bat at Justice’s nose.

“Do not harass Anders,” he said seriously. “He requires rest.”

Macaroni rested his chin on his paws and huffed, but seemed willing to obey. Justice closed his eye, trying to ignore the weight on his chest. The dog was no threat to him, and he did not find the pressure distressing – in fact, there was something comforting about it, in a strange way. This was an unfamiliar place, with unfamiliar rules, and Justice found the silent companionship of the dog far more pleasant than he had expected. He carefully extracted one arm from Hawke’s embrace and rested his fingertips on Macaroni’s neck.

A great deal had changed in very little time. Justice had thought Hawke’s interest in Anders would not survive his moment of panic in the tunnels, but he had stood by them, he had comforted them. _Comforted Anders,_ Justice reminded himself. He was a guest here and would not forget it – an outsider, perhaps, and he thought that most likely both mortals would have preferred that this night had not been shared with him. But he had not been made unwelcome, he had not been treated as an obstacle – Hawke had looked him in the eye and acknowledged him as a person. It had been so many years since he had been _seen_. Justicegave a soft rumble of contentment as he settled against Hawke’s chest, and waited for morning.

***

Hawke woke slowly, with his face buried in the pillows and his hair sweat-dampened and clinging to his face. _Maker,_ it was bright – even face-down he could tell it was a blinding morning. He shifted slightly, and felt warm skin shift under his palm. Hawke froze, breath catching in his throat. _Anders._

He smiled sleepily, screwing his eyes tightly shut against the blinding sun – there was something odd about the light, a coolness to the colour. He burrowed his face against the back of Anders’ neck, tracing circles against his skin with his fingers.

“Anders,” he mumbled happily, and kissed a protruding bump of his spine. Anders felt oddly stiff in his arms, holding himself awkwardly as if he was unsure how to react. Was he unsure if he was still wanted? Or perhaps just not used to waking up in someone’s arms? Hawke pulled him close against his chest, noticing that his skin hummed faintly against his – that felt _nice,_ another perk of sleeping with a mage? Strange that he hadn’t noticed last night, but there had been so much to discover and – Hawke opened his eyes slowly, blinked, and promptly fell out of bed.

There was a little voice in the back of his mind that told him scrabbling backwards, landing hard on his ass and continuing to retreat wasn’t a _rational_ reaction – but Maker, that was one very brightly glowing Fade spirit in his bed, turning towards him with a cold, expressionless stare, sitting up and – yes, he was very naked. Hawke averted his gaze, groping for words as he sluggishly hauled his mind awake.

“Justice – you’re… Justice…” _eloquent, Garrett,_ he thought – and tried again. “I’m sorry I didn’t expect…”

Justice opened his mouth to speak, then stiffened suddenly, fingers clenching in the sheets. He growled, ducked his head as he hunched forward and his glow brightened for a moment, then faded completely and Anders was left behind, looking at Hawke in horror.

“Did he hurt you?” He scrambled out of bed and dropped to his knees beside Hawke and began to check him over, running his hands over every inch of skin to search for proof of injury. “I’m sorry – I didn’t think – I knew he _could_ take over when I slept but I didn’t think he would – what did he do?”

“Nothing,” Hawke said, catching Anders’ wrists gently to stop his frantic movements. “I opened my eyes, saw you glowing, and fell out of bed. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Anders stood up, hurrying to gather his clothes before Hawke could find the words to stop him. “He took over – you woke up with a stranger in your bed of course you – I should have known, I shouldn’t have – I’m an abomination, I shouldn’t be here, I…”

Hawke caught up to him and placed a hand on his arm – gently, careful not to startle him – and encouraged him to face him.

“It’s _very_ early,” he said softly. “And you’re the best sight I’ve woken up to in a long time. Glowing or not. So…” He held out his hands for the clothes, and shot Anders a relieved grin when he handed them over. “Stop worrying so much about Justice,” Hawke said, setting them down on his desk. “Trust me when I say _you haven’t scared me off,_ and please, please come back to bed?”

“You – don’t mind?”

“Love, if you hadn’t taken over, I think the _very_ intimidating spirit was going to apologise and offer me a hand up,” he said. Hawke wrapped his arms around Anders and pulled him close, rubbing his back until the tension drained from him and he eased against Hawke with a sigh. “I’m used to waking up to Macaroni’s morning breath – really, this was a pleasant change.”

Anders laughed – Hawke decided those self-conscious little laughs were extremely important, and he was going to make it his job to cause as many as possible. He led Anders back to bed, noticing that Macaroni was sprawled out happily on his back across most of it. Hawke glanced back at the door – hanging half open.

“You do that, boy?” Macaroni’s tail thumped in response. “Clever dog.”

“Does your dog always sleep in here?” Anders slid into bed, squinting suspiciously at Macaroni even as he obligingly rolled over to make room. Hawke clicked his fingers and he jumped off the bed obediently and padded out into the hallway, and Hawke latched the door behind him.

“I’ve been _very_ lonely,” Hawke said with a dramatic pout.

“I suppose I can’t really say anything, can I?” Anders rolled to face Hawke as he slipped between the sheets. “Your dog drooled on my pillow, but at least I woke up next to who I expected to.”

“He’s a very nice dog,” Hawke said. “Really, just give it time. You’ll get used to what to expect with him, he’ll learn to trust you. I think you’ll be great friends before you know it. And…” Hawke slid his hand over Anders’ hip to squeeze his ass, grinning as he pulled him closer. “He knows when to give us a little privacy.”

“You’re lucky Justice doesn’t understand metaphor,” Anders murmured as Hawke leaned in close. “I think he’d _throw_ you out of bed if he caught you comparing him to…”

“Don’t give it away.” Hawke kissed him, feeling Anders smile against his lips before his hand curled around the back of Hawke’s head. He deepened the kiss, squirming closer until their bodies were pressed against each other. Hawke growled quietly against his lips as he rolled onto his back with Anders on top of him, and they rocked together slowly, lazily, no urgency in their movements even as Hawke’s cock hardened and he felt Anders’ stiff length press against his thigh.

“How long ‘til you have to open the clinic?” he murmured.

“No rush.”

Hawke wondered briefly how true that was – how long could he keep Anders here before Justice or his own sense of duty pulled him away? But for now Anders was writhing against him, quickened breath becoming rough gasps as Hawke wrapped his hand around both their lengths and began to stroke firmly. He looped his arm around Anders’ back as if he could hold him there forever, warm bodies and muffled gasps into each other’s mouths as they moved together. There was nothing outside their bed as far as Hawke was concerned – all he needed was right here. The scent of Anders’ skin, the sharp catch in his panting breaths, the way his thighs shook as Hawke’s slow, steady strokes dragged them both towards climax.

Hawke spilled across his belly, arching up against Anders with a grunt as he adjusted his grip and continued to stroke him. He felt delirious with pleasure, warm and light-headed as Anders continued to thrust into his hand and he tightened his arm around his back, never wanting to feel him pull away again. Hawke traced his fingers across Anders’ back, he could feel the rise and fall of the scars under his fingers, a map that led him to the points where he remembered freckles bloomed. Anders mouth pressed down hard and urgently against his, and Hawke felt a splash against his skin as Anders shuddered and panted in his arms.

They lay together in the afterglow with tangled sheets pushed down around their hips, the morning sun streaming across their bodies. The stars were gone, replaced with blue skies, but Hawke didn’t need to count stars any longer. He held Anders in his arms, fingertips tracing the shape of a dragon on his shoulder, connecting dots from memory as he outlined the constellation that was his alone.


End file.
